Hidden Scars
by GildaMulberry
Summary: Camille meets someone new and becomes great friends with that person. But, there's something secretive about her new friend... At the same time, Richard is trying to figure out what he really wants in life, and he's struggling with his feelings for Camille.
1. The Heat Is On

Set a little more than a month after the end of Series 2. AU, series 3 ff. don't exist.

Includes references to

'A Meditation on Murder'

(No. 1 of the 'Death in Paradise' novels)

Chapter 1 – The Heat Is On

It was yet another hot day in paradise. Or rather, on the Caribbean island of Saint Marie… The four people sitting in the station of the Saint Marie Police Force were sweating quietly. The ceiling fan that had whisked the air and helped to make things a little more bearable until recently had given up its ghost two days ago.

Detective Inspector Richard Poole sighed and mopped his brow with his already soaked handkerchief. Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey, dressed in a strappy red top and tan capris said sardonically "It would be easier for you if you took off your jacket, sir."

Her two colleagues, Police Officer Dwayne Myers and Sergeant Fidel Best, exchanged a knowing glance. She just couldn't leave him alone, could she? She had suggested the same thing already twice before today (not to mention the countless times she had said it since his arrival over two years ago) – and he hadn't given in. What made her think that he'd do so this time?

But this time, they were in for a surprise: Richard really couldn't take it any more. He sighed again, got up and said "You may be right after all…" He took off his jacket, placed it over the backrest of his wheelie chair and trotted to the fridge to take out a bottle of cold water.

With another sigh, he pressed the bottle to the nape of his neck and closed his eyes. Why, oh why had he agreed to stay on this godforsaken island for another year recently? What on earth had come over him? He was uncomfortable, his shirt was glued to his torso, his hair was messy and damp, and sweat ran in rivulets down his back. He longed for a shower. Not that this would help for more than exactly two minutes, though – the heat was relentless in the Caribbean.

He rolled the bottle up and down a little and enjoyed the feeling for a moment. Without thinking, he lifted his other hand, minimally loosened his tie and opened the top button of his shirt, running his index finger between his neck and the collar. Oh, the relief was beyond words…

He heard a snigger, and when he opened his eyes, his gaze met Camille's – she seemed amused, but there also was something else in her eyes that he couldn't quite pinpoint. He felt the colour rising high in his cheeks, and with a flush of embarrassment he was reminded of one of his main – albeit 'top-secret' and entirely inofficial - reasons for staying on Saint Marie.

The truth was that his DS played a major role in his decision – although he would never have admitted it if anybody had asked him. He was hardly ready admit it to himself, but he had clearly fallen for her – whatever that meant. She fascinated him, and the prospect of leaving and never seeing her again had horrified him.

So, although he hadn't got the faintest idea of where this all was going – if it was going anywhere at all! -, he had decided to stay – following a completely unreasonable 'instinct' – a notion that he hated almost as much as the notion 'gut feeling', but still… he had been unable to ignore it. He had chided himself for being so irrational, but he couldn't help it… And well, he had survived for over two years here – he'd survive another one… and if he ever got his act together and asked her out, maybe there even was a future for him on this island. If not… well, he'd find somewhere else to go and move on with his life.

There were other (more valid) reasons for him to stay, of course – and those were the official rationales he was ready to admit to himself, though not to others. Much to his surprise, he had never before felt so appreciated and valued in his career – well, if you wanted to call it a career.

He enjoyed working with this team – Dwayne, Fidel and even Camille gave him a feeling of acknowledgement he had never known before. The lack of ballistics and forensics still annoyed him, but he could work around that if necessary, and never before had he been so satisfied with his work. Despite the fact that nothing worked the way he had been used to when he first arrived here, he truly enjoyed his job. It was definitely better being No. 1 here on Saint Marie than being No. 1042 (or something like that) in London. He could work independently, with a team that fully backed him up – that was like winning the lottery.

The team – despite all their little deficits - was very supportive, and after a slightly confusing time of adjustment, they all had got used to one another, and they accepted him without further questions. Sure, they found his quirks a little strange, but they didn't make any _mean_ jokes at his expense, and although Camille liked to wind him up, she never was malicious or spiteful. Initially, they had found it somewhat difficult to work with each other, but since they had been thrown together by the Commissioner, they hadn't had any choice but make the best of the situation.

Over the past years, they had got it together somehow, and he had learnt to trust her instincts. They compensated for their respective shortcomings – he was pedantic and accurate, and she was resourceful and intuitive. Together with Dwayne and Fidel, they had solved many difficult cases, and he knew very well that it was the team as a whole that was responsible for the crime solving rate - not just him.

Another thing was that absolutely nobody was waiting for him back in the UK. He didn't have a bad relationship with his parents, but they had never been very close, either, so he had not even asked them for their opinion when he had been offered an extension of the assignment a little more than a month ago.

HR had asked him when he had been back to London. For a moment he had been tempted to decline the offer and ask for a re-transfer to the UK, but then a memory had overcome him… the memory of Camille's eyes – big, dark and shiny with mysterious, unspoken emotions - and her deliberately neutral voice as she was saying matter-of-factly "You're not coming back, are you" – as if she was stating an obvious, plain fact. For a moment, he had been speechless – why would she care?

Still, she had appeared unsettled, and in an attempt to reassure her, he had tried to play things down by saying that he'd come back for sure – only to take it all back by coming up with the "but then again, you never know" scenario… - out of fear that his words might have betrayed his irritatingly intense feelings for her.

During his stay in the UK he had tried to forget it, but the memory had kept haunting him, and so, despite all his nagging and complaining about the island, he had agreed to staying on Saint Marie.

He still wasn't sure that he had done the right thing, but it was too late now to entertain regrets and question his reasons… He was stuck here for another year, and he just had to deal with it, for better or for worse.

His parents had simply acknowledged and accepted his decision when he had told them. He had claimed that it was easiest to stay on Saint Marie at this point and that the Commissioner had asked him to stay (which was true… but Richard wouldn't have paid much heed to that if he really, truly had wanted to leave). His house in Croydon was sold, and he would have to look for a new place if he returned to the UK, anyway. He didn't have any friends who might miss him, either.

He hated the humidity and the heat on Saint Marie – not to mention the sand, the lizards and snakes, the stray cats everywhere, the croaking frogs near his house, the free range chickens in and around his house… but all that – as unlikely as it sounded - got outweighed by the positive sides of this assignment. When he had first come here, he hadn't believed he'd ever see anything remotely positive in this place… but despite all the obvious drawbacks, he had somehow come to like this island and its population.

Particularly one member of its population…

She was still looking at him, a provocative little smile curved her lips.

Embarrassed, he looked away and asked Fidel "Any luck in getting hold of the electrician, Fidel?"

"Well, sir, I have called him earlier today, and I have called him yesterday and the day before. I can call him again, if you wish, but I doubt it would speed him up…" Fidel offered.

Richard returned to his desk and sat down again. "Does it have to be Andrew? I mean, isn't there anybody else on this benighted island who could fix that bloody thing?" he asked exasperatedly while he was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

Dwayne shook his head and said regretfully "There are two other shops on the island but they are extremely busy, too – and they are both further away than Andrew. Plus they don't have a history with the police as a customer - so, realistically, I don't think there's an alternative, Chief… unless you want someone from Guadeloupe, and you know how the Commissioner feels about that sort of thing…"

Richard let out another sigh and said with a resigned voice "Well, if you don't know anybody, I'm pretty sure it's a hopeless case…"

With that, he opened his bottle and took a swig of the cold water.

* * *

Camille still watched him from under her lashes. She had no idea why he fascinated her like that – but he did. She had never met anybody like him. While she had initially thought she could never work with him, she now loved working with him – not that she would outright admit it to him, but she suspected that he knew. And although he still complained about her being impulsive and jumping to conclusions, she knew exactly that he trusted her and appreciated her approach to things. And she had learnt from him that little details could indeed count and make a huge difference. So, they complemented each other nicely.

She didn't quite know why, but - he was more to her than just the Inspector, and she wanted to get to know him better – his personality, his soft spots, his personal history, his hopes, fears and dreams… Slowly, but surely, she had fallen for him, and she had tried to make him understand that she was interested in something deeper than just a work relationship.

Since he was so different from all other men she knew, though, her usual repertoire of female tricks, hints and clues to show her interest and make her potential prey understand that she'd like to be flattered, courted and eventually conquered had failed completely so far.

He didn't seem to notice.

She wasn't sure, though, if he didn't notice – or if he just wasn't interested. She had seen him looking at other women from time to time, so she knew he wasn't immune to female assets, but his gaze had never rested on her longer than necessary. Two or three times she had thought she had seen an appreciative gleam in his eyes, and yes, he had said once that she looked stunning – but that compliment had been a mayfly – he had never said anything like that again.

Against all odds, he had come back from the UK – she had been surprised and thrilled to see him again after what had seemed like an eternity – and in fact, it had only been a week. It had been such a relief to have him around again – she had feared he would abandon the team – abandon her, actually. She had even cried over him! She had been careful not to show her emotions too openly, but she suspected that Fidel and Dwayne knew, anyway – and her mother might have an inkling, too. But since nobody ever said anything, she figured she was perhaps better at hiding her feelings than she gave herself credit for.

She had thought he had noticed that she cared… During the night of the hurricane, when he had confessed that he liked doing puzzles because he could do them on his own, she had responded that he didn't have to do things on his own any more because… well, he had _her_ now. She had thought he might figure it out then. Even he couldn't possibly be that daft… When she had stretched out on the makeshift bed in the lab, she had half hoped that he would join her and maybe they'd get closer – she hadn't expected him to pull off a romantic scene, but he could have held her, couldn't he, particularly after the meaningful conversation they had just had…

And after all, they were only two humans, and they had been all alone in a small building in the hurricane… the rain had been pelting on the roof, the wind had been gushing… it would have been the most normal thing in the world to comfort and reassure one another in this scary situation by holding on to each other.

But that hadn't happened. He had indeed come to lie next to her eventually, but only after she had fallen asleep and he had been too tired to continue reading. She had woken up when he had called her in the morning, and she thought she had felt him touching her for a moment, but that had been all.

Their relationship had changed a little after that, but still… it hadn't been what she had had in mind when she had made that remark.

As unlikely as it had seemed, she had hoped that since he hadn't figured it out then, something might happen between them after his return. But no… nothing. Much to her disappointment, he hadn't given her any reason to believe that she had played a role in his decision to return. There hadn't been any hint that he saw more in her than a member of his team. How utterly frustrating he was… Admittedly, it hadn't been more than a few weeks since his return, and considering that he was generally a very reserved man, it was surely silly to expect him to change his behaviour towards her within such a relatively short time span, but still…

She was getting irritated with him – it couldn't be so difficult to figure this out, could it… On some days, she felt extremely annoyed with him – how could he be so dense? On other days, she realised she was over-reacting. It was hard to be in limbo like that – she hated this. Even when she had fallen in love for the first time as a teen, it had been easier – mostly because she had known pretty much right from the start that the feeling was mutual. With Richard, she was clueless. It bothered her that he seemed so unruffled and unimpressed with her. If she hadn't cared for him, it wouldn't have bothered her so much, obviously…

Had she perhaps become 'rusty' in her flirting skills? No, that couldn't be the case. Other men reacted to her. It was only him who resisted her. She didn't dare to show her feelings too openly, though – there was a certain danger in behaving too affectionately towards one's boss… It could easily be misunderstood! It was not that she wanted to push her career – as many people would perhaps assume – it was different.

No, it was about real feelings, and it had to be him who'd make the first move, so she didn't look ridiculous… she had been burnt before by showing her emotions too openly, and she didn't want to repeat that experience. No, it had to be him to take the first step and show his interest….

She really, really wanted something to happen…

She stretched out her long legs, took up a pen and began to doodle aimlessly on the paper napkin that was left over from her lunch break. Shifting a little on her chair, she realised that her top was clinging to her body, and sweat was running down her back.

The heat was killing her. Something had to happen about that, too.


	2. Plans and Schemes

Chapter 2 – Plans and Schemes

"No, Camille... there's really, truly no way I could come and fix your fan any time soon – I have a project going on in one of the resorts at the other end of the island," said Andrew Chadwick, the electrician. Honest regret was in his voice.

Camille sighed dramatically and said "Too bad. You know, personally, I don't mind all that much, but our Inspector really is suffering. He's an irritable man, anyway, but the heat just does him in."

Andrew laughed and said "Would be easier if he got rid of this suit, wouldn't it!" He knew Richard from previous work projects and had seen him a couple of times in Honoré. The Inspector was notorious for his dark woollen suits, the impeccable ties and the long-sleeved dress shirts he wore – not to mention the dark shiny brogues. He always looked as neat as a pin – admittedly, a slightly deranged pin, considering the climate was so hot and humid… How Richard survived was a miracle to everyone around him – just looking at him made most people break out in a sweat.

Camille rolled her eyes and replied "Oh, I know! I keep telling him the same, but he just doesn't want to listen. At least he took off his jacket today, so you can tell he really suffered. And the hotter it is, the more irritated he is, and the more annoying he gets… so, my reasons for wanting to get this fan fixed are entirely selfish!"

Her voice became pleading now that she added " _Please_ , Andrew… save me from this misery! I'll make up for it next time you come to La Kaz – you'll get… you'll get a free cocktail, I promise! _At least_ one!"

A thoughtful and slightly amused "Hm" was the response. Andrew looked at his calendar. He really wanted to do Camille this favour – and maybe, something was in it for him. So far, he had never dared to ask Camille out – he had been discouraged by her self-confident attitude. But if he did her a favour, she might feel that she couldn't say no if he asked her, and he wouldn't only earn a free cocktail, but maybe a date?

He had met quite a few women in his life, but Camille surely was among the most fascinating ones. Usually, it wasn't a big deal for him to ask women for dates – actually, he had the reputation of being a bit of a womaniser – but with Camille, it was different. Her obvious, demonstrative self-confidence scared him a little – he had seen her looking at men who had tried to hook up with her, putting them into their place with a raised eyebrow and an ironic smile, and her behaviour had discouraged him.

It was not that she was an ice queen. No, she wasn't at all – but you noticed quickly when you had gone to far in your attempts at impressing her. With a slightly amused smile on her lips and an openly astonished look that seemed to say 'You? Don't be silly!', she would give the men in question to understand that she was clearly not interested. She seemed flirtatious at first, but she didn't let anybody cross a certain invisible line – and her way of dealing with unwanted advances had made the poor folks who hadn't got the message rightaway look more than just a little stupid. He had no desire to join the crowd of those who had been met with a rebuff. That would completely ruin his reputation…

On top of all this, someone had told him that her mother was apparently on a mission to find a husband for Camille, and that had entirely put him off trying his luck with her – he wasn't really looking for anything serious at this point in his life. He was happily divorced, and for the time being, he was just looking for some distraction, someone to hang out and have fun with, someone to have a fling with – but not someone to get married to.

However… that was only Camille's mother… Camille herself didn't appear to be too keen on a committed relationship, so maybe – if he got this darn old fan fixed for her, she'd be grateful enough to grant him more than just a cocktail. If only she gave him a chance to get into talking a bit more and let him turn on his charm, he'd surely manage to wheedle her into going out with him, and from there, it would be easy…

So he said "Mind you, Camille… I could send my cousin who's over from the UK at the moment and not constantly involved in the resort project with me. Joey has been helping me out with all kinds of minor things lately, so if that's okay – let me know."

"So, is your cousin also an electrician?" Camille asked curiously.

"Yep. Doesn't have a job in the UK at the moment – cutbacks and all, you know… Qualified and everything, but had no luck…"

"Well, if you say your cousin is qualified, I think we can try – as long as you take the responsibility, Andrew."

"Yes, sure – I'll also be the one who'll invoice you, so… Figure you'd rather have it done quickly, huh? Would tomorrow around 11 be okay? I'll give Joey a call, and if you don't hear from me any more before tonight at 8, all is set, alright?"

Camille agreed. She was very pleased with herself. Richard hopefully would appreciate her efforts, and maybe, just maybe, he would even say something that one could interpret as gratitude or acknowledgement. He was fairly generous with praise when it came to professional things, but beyond that, he was a bit – er – unpracticed.

* * *

The next morning found Richard bathed in sweat again. He had woken up several times in the middle of the night because it had been so hot, and when the alarm had gone off, he had been totally shattered. Knowing that the fan at his workplace was dead made him only more miserable. This was not going to be a fun day.

He got ready and set off for the station where he was greeted by Fidel and Dwayne. Shortly afterwards, Camille arrived as well, with a donut for everyone. "Good morning, boys," she said merrily and let them pick their donuts from the paper bag they were in. Perching on Richard's desk, holding out the bag to him and ignoring his apparently disapproving glance as she pushed his neatly arranged pencils into a disorganised mess with her movement, she said "I've got news for you, sir…"

Richard suspiciously took the last donut (was there any particular reason for her to buy donuts for everyone, or was it a special day, and he had forgotten about it?), shot her an inquiring glance, and when she didn't continue, he uttered an impatient "Well… Go on!"

"Oh, I will. But first let me say that you're welcome for the donut, sir. I hope you'll enjoy it…" Richard squirmed at her sarcasm. He really should have thanked her before getting all tetchy… this was just another example in a long series of his maladroit failures to say the right thing in the right moment…

Camille, however, didn't dwell on it. She continued, with a certain gleam in her eyes, "I got hold of Andrew yesterday after work, and he'll send over his cousin to fix the fan at around 11 today."

Now Richard stared at her in disbelief. Since he had just opened his mouth to take a bite of the donut, he didn't sport his most intelligent expression, and her amused gaze made him realise – so he shut his mouth again, put the donut back on the little napkin that it had come with and that he still was holding in his hand and said "Ah."

Then, understanding that a more enthusiastic reaction would be appropriate, but not willing to show the excitement she seemed to expect, he asked "How did you do that, Camille?"

She got up from his desk, minced over to hers and said smilingly "I only pulled a few strings. And I bribed him."

"You did _what_?" He wasn't sure if he had understood correctly.

"I bribed him," she repeated. And then, when he didn't say anything, but just looked at her with a frown, she continued, with a slightly frustrated undertone "You know, why don't you just say 'thank you' or 'well done, Camille' – or simply 'wow'?"

Before he could say anything, the phone rang, and she went to answer it, not without shooting him a glance that conveyed both her disappointment and her anger.

Richard wanted to kick himself. Why, oh why did he always miss the right moment? He had just been so taken aback by her flippant statement that she had bribed the electrician that he had completely forgotten to thank her. Of course, he appreciated her efforts – hopefully, she hadn't committed to anything unethical! – so why couldn't he just say so?

He watched her while she was talking and jotting down an address. Today's choice of attire was black shorts and a soft pink top. It suited her very well. In all fairness, he'd yet have to see a piece of clothing that did not suit her very well. He suspected she could wear a bin liner, and still she would look fabulous. She appeared like a model in literally anything she wore! A soft pink scarf, matching the top, was braided into her hair, and she wore black sandals to round off the outfit. She looked cool, competent and capable.

Next to her, he usually felt clumsy, clownish and cranky. He knew that he had a somewhat distorted self-image – but it was hard not to feel inferior when Camille was around. She was so self-confident… she always seemed to be in control… Plus, she constantly said unexpected things, and more than once she had made him blush with her innuendos.

A couple of times, he had felt that she genuinely liked him – but he wasn't sure. It was hard to understand the signals she was sending – it wasn't only that she was French (okay… half French and half Caribbean – but did that make it any better?) and hence had a different cultural background. Of course, that was an aspect, but it wasn't the main issue. It was more a matter of her being this particular combination of French Caribbean and female. He had never been very good in understanding women in general – they said and did the weirdest things! -, and Camille was no exception. So much of her behaviour seemed contradictory to him.

As she hung up, she handed Fidel the scrap of paper with the address she had written down. "Burglary," she said. "I don't think you'll need a senior officer for this, so if you don't mind…"

"No, that's fine," said Fidel. Dwayne got up from his seat, nodded and said "We'll take the bike. In case you'll need to go anywhere, you'll have the Rover – seems more practical, I guess".

Camille grinned – she remembered only too well how Richard once had refused straight out to go with her when she had taken the bike back from a crime scene to the station. He hadn't said anything nasty or derogatory – but he had insisted on walking several miles in the blistering sunshine instead of sitting in the sidecar. She had never quite figured out if he actually was a male chauvinist who thought that women shouldn't drive motorbikes altogether – that seemed highly unlikely given his overall attitude – or if it was just that he mistrusted her driving skills – after all, he complained about her adventurous driving style regularly…

In any case, she had let him go and given him twenty minutes – she had sat down in the shade, had some water, nibbled on some nuts she had found in her pocket, and enjoyed the quiet time. By the time she had caught up on him, he had already had walked a mile or so, and he had been hot and bothered. She had stopped next to him, and without a word he had put on the helmet and climbed into the sidecar. Of course, the bike was too noisy, so talking was out of the question, anyway, but it wasn't necessary – she knew that she had won. And the stony expression on his face in combination with the smug expression on hers were quite enough to tell everyone who came across them by chance what had happened.

And of course, neither of them had ever lost a word about the incident any more…

When the had come to this point in her memory, she also recalled how the day had taken an unexpected turn later on… It had been the day of the Erzulie festival, and her mother had set her up for a blind date with someone… When she had arrived at the bar and seen him sitting on the patio, she had thought Richard was her date – and she had been very disappointed when it had turned out to be a mistake – he had just been there because he was supposed to babysit little Rosie, and Fidel would come and pick him up at La Kaz.

And she had believed to see more than just a hint of disappointment in his face as well when their conversation was cut off by Fidel and her mother – but they had never spoken about this incident, either.

That was the pattern in their 'relationship' – whatever it actually was – they never talked about things…

And there was so much she wanted to talk about with him. She wanted him to know all sorts of little things about herself, discuss with him, exchange views and experiences… and get to know him better. But he never gave her a chance to do so. He was always on his guard.

Richard's thoughts took the same direction after Dwayne's remark… That bike ride had been quite something! Of course, he also remembered the evening that followed after this scenario, and he smiled inwardly at the memory of Camille in her red dress. She had seemed to feel a little let down when her mother had come up and reminded her to say hello to her date – for a moment, it had looked like she had believed it was him she'd go out with.

Ridiculous – as if Catherine had ever matched her up with him… He knew only too well that this would have been a disaster. He was always so tongue tied around women – and most likely, Camille would have made him say things he didn't want to reveal… she had a talent for making people feel comfortable with her, and then they said things they never wanted anybody to know. How she did that, he did not know, but he had experienced that a couple of times already, and it scared him.

No, no – it was better not to get too close to her.

The problem – and his dilemma - was, though, that this was exactly what he wanted – get close to her. Only that he didn't know how to do it. He kept waiting for a brainwave – that hadn't come so far, unfortunately.

He figured that until its arrival, he'd just have to hide his affection for her.


	3. An Unexpected Appearance

Chapter 3 – An Unexpected Appearance

If Camille had hoped that a tête-à-tête with Richard in the station would result in him loosening up and being a bit less stuffy, she was sorely mistaken. He remained sitting, staring at his computer screen, making the occasional absent-minded remark about the heat and generally ignoring her. They didn't have any major case at the moment, it was all petty stuff, and they had to write a couple of reports and finish paperwork. It was boring, but had to get done. They all hated these lulls, but they were part of the job.

Camille watched him from the corner of her eye. She wished she knew what he was thinking. Of course, she knew it was crazy to be so obsessed with him… Since his return from the UK, she had been quite moody and out of balance – she suffered because nothing had happened so far. With an angry glance at him, she thought of how they had welcomed him back, showing him that they had missed him, and then - nothing at all had changed… it just had been business as usual. He hadn't said he had missed her, he hadn't said he was happy to be back – nothing. He _had_ thanked her for feeding his lizard – that had pulled off several disappearance acts already, but always returned eventually - and keeping an eye on the shack, but other than that – _nothing_. Absolutely _nothing_.

It was so frustrating…

She had no idea why she would want _him_ – of all men she knew - to acknowledge or like her, anyway - he was totally different from all the men that had been important in her life so far, both regarding appearance as well as demeanour. Neither was he tall and dashing, nor was he gregarious and cheerful…

But then again, her previous relationships with dashing, cheerful men hadn't worked out… Actually, some of them had resulted in disaster, as she remembered with some bitterness, and she had been hurt. She had reflected all this over and over again and come to the conclusion that perhaps she needed something different, and he was different… so maybe that was why he appealed to her so much, despite all his idiosyncrasies? Despite the fact that he sometimes engaged in conduct that could only be described as childish and self-absorbed? Despite all the loftiness he sometimes aired? Despite his lack of people skills?

She realised that – despite all his shortcomings - he was reliable, he stood for stability - and she knew that she wanted (and needed) that in her life now. She had got tired of all the gallivanting and dilly-dallying. Over the past years, her life had changed (several times, actually, and quite dramatically in some cases), and little by little, her needs and her attitude had changed, too. She had been homesick when she had returned to the Caribbean – not only for her mother, the climate or the people, but for the general feeling of 'belonging' -, and since she had been re-established here on Saint Marie, she had realised that she was looking for something that her younger self most likely would have despised. Of course, she had made experiences that had taken their toll on her… It had taken her some time to understand that not only her living conditions and her work had changed – but that _she_ had changed, too… or rather, her attitude towards some important aspects of life. And she only knew too well that she had shortcomings, too…

Her younger self… she sometimes wondered what she might have been thinking when she was a teenager or a young twen. She couldn't quite make sense of it any more. She remembered that she had wanted adventure, new experiences, excitement… And she had looked out for daredevils, go-getters, adventurous dashing types… Who'd care if they never kept their promises – she'd move on to the next… there were so many interesting people out there, after all…

It was different now. Yes, adventure was still good. But now, she wanted emotional security. Someone who wouldn't walk away when things got difficult. Someone who would stand by her. Someone who'd be honest with her and who wouldn't try to sell her bottled moonshine. Someone who'd hold her when she needed support – who'd understand that no matter how independent and brave she was, she also needed a shoulder to lean on. Someone who would make an effort to look behind the mask she was wearing as part of the various roles she was playing. Someone who would appreciate her for who she was, not only for what she appeared to be. Someone who acknowledged her intelligence just as much as her courage and her attractive appearance.

Could he give her all that? Maybe, yes… but wasn't he too staid and starchy, on the other hand? Weren't they too different? Could he really help to heal the wounds she had received over the years – make her forget the lonely times she had gone through – accept her for who she was and not only for what he saw in her?

And could she compensate for the pain and difficulties he had gone through – make up for the many occasions when others had picked on him and bullied him – make him see that life was so much better when you opened up and let others in?

Perhaps she could…

But how would she ever know if he didn't let her get closer?

Ironically, he described himself as 'an open book'. Well, yes, an open book he was – but the pages were firmly glued together so you couldn't read what was going on inside, except for the two pages on display…

Angrily, she turned her head and forced herself to focus on the report she was supposed to be writing.

Why, oh why couldn't she stop thinking about him?

* * *

They worked in silence until the boys returned from their interrogation. Some of the neighbours who had seen a suspicious person in the area over the past few days had come up with details and descriptions. How useful these would be was another story… they'd have to find out.

Fidel and Dwayne described the scenario, and they began to discuss the case.

"As far as I see it," Fidel said, "it boils down to…"

He didn't get any further. A voice from the entrance door said "Excuse me…" and they all looked up.

Framed by the doorway stood a curvy young woman, in loose-fitting, cut off denim dungarees with a bib, underneath she wore a short-sleeved white polo shirt that was just about fitting over her rather impressive chest. A red base cap covered her blond hair, carelessly tied up in a messy loose ponytail with strands hanging out all over the place. A black scarf was wrapped around the cap's seam, fixed with lots of bobby pins - the loose ends were dangling down her back, their fringes ended somewhere around the middle of her shoulder blades – this 'do' gave her a slightly eccentric look. Bright red bobbysocks and sensible black sneakers completed her outfit. She wasn't very tall, maybe 5 feet 2 inches, but definitely hard to overlook.

An amused smile curved her lips as she saw the four faces looking at her inquiringly.

Finally, Richard woke up from his daze and said "Yes please?"

"Ah, you must be the Inspector," the woman said, coming up to him and extending her hand. "I'm Josephine Sullivan, Joey for short…" Richard took the proffered hand and just about managed to keep a straight face – Joey Sullivan had a very firm grip!

"Er… yes, I'm Detective Inspector Richard Poole… What can I do for you?" he asked. She smiled brightly and said "I guess it's more about what I can do for you."

Richard's eyes almost popped out of his head. What on earth was this woman talking about?

In a sudden epiphany, Camille realised that this had to be Andrew's cousin – the electrician. Of course, she hadn't expected Joey to be a _woman_ – and what a woman she was, on top of that! With a slight frown, Camille's eyes wandered over Joey's figure – and she certainly didn't fail to notice that Richard, Fidel and Dwayne all gawped at the young woman with wide eyes as if she was a pink unicorn or some other fairy tale character.

For some reason, Camille couldn't quite see the humour in the situation – in the back of her mind, she registered that there was something comical about the three men staring at Joey, but somehow it disturbed her more than it amused her. She realised that she hadn't been prepared for this – she had automatically assumed that an electrician would be male. For an instant she was embarrassed to realise how she had fallen victim to standard gender stereotypes – she who always emphasised that women could do any job just as well (if not even better!) as men, no matter what it was!

Clearing her throat, she came forward and said amicably, but with a slightly tense voice "You must be Andrew's cousin – he promised to send you over today!"

Joey turned to her – there was a twinkle in her grey eyes, and she said cheerfully "That's right!" She extended her hand, and Camille took it in a reflex – and she felt totally disarmed by Joey's open demeanour and her friendly smile. She couldn't help but smile back – in spite of her initial uneasiness because of the men's behaviour.

"I figure you must be Camille Bordey? Great to meet you! I've heard so much about you already! Did _you_ speak to Andrew? He said you wanted your ceiling fan fixed, is that correct?" Joey asked, her eyes firmly set on Camille.

Richard found his voice again and answered her question "Yes, that's correct. We'd like to have our ceiling fan fixed… Fidel here – " and he gestured towards the younger officer – "will give you all the details so you can go ahead and – er – get the job done."

A meaningful glance from his side made Camille realise that her hand was still firmly clasped in Joey's. Suddenly a little embarrassed, Camille loosened her grip, and Joey let go, turning around to face Richard. The little scene hadn't been noticed by Fidel and Dwayne – only Richard had registered it. The uncomfortable look on his face showed clearly what he felt, Camille thought. It obviously was something like "Run for your lives… girlpower!"

He clapped his hands now and uttered an impatient "Come on, team – don't you have any work to do?" His disapproving gaze fell on Dwayne – who grinned openly as he let his eyes wander appreciatevely over Joey's very attractive backside. Realising that the Chief was giving him a stern look, he coughed and then sauntered back to his desk where he began to rifle through a stack of paper. That girl definitely was quite a looker – her head looked like a bird's nest with the scarf and everything, but the rest of her was clearly stunning…

Camille managed to suppress a huff, turned around on her heel and stalked back to her desk. She couldn't quite pinpoint what it was that upset her, but whatever it was, it had to do with how the boys and Richard had stared at this young woman – although she knew she had no actual reason for being annoyed.

Joey was clearly younger than herself – maybe in her late 20s – and she had an amazing aura of quiet self-confidence that Camille found a tiny little bit disturbing. But it was impossible to blame her for the glances that the men had thrown in her direction. She was entirely natural, there was nothing artificial or provocative about her.

She watched Fidel and Joey as they bent over the documents they had regarding the fan's wiring and all the technical details – Andrew had never wanted to see these things, but Joey pointed out that she might miss out on something important if she didn't get all the info. She conceded not having all that much experience with that particular type of fan.

"The thing is… it's quite a bit older than the models I'm familiar with, and although they pretty much all follow the same pattern, it's better to be safe than sorry, isn't it?" she remarked, flashing Fidel a charming smile. Fidel smiled back at her – he was obviously impressed with her, though he didn't look as bewitched any more now as he had appeared to be just a few minutes ago. Joey was clearly not flirty or coquettish, she was just genuinely nice in the best sense of the word. When she handed the documents back to Fidel, she noticed the photo of Juliet and little Rosie on his desk and made a friendly remark about him having a lovely family, and Fidel beamed at her, but there was nothing suspicious about all that, was there? The young officer tried to get into some sort of conversation with her, but although Joey Sullivan did reply in the most charming and polite manner, all her responses were somewhat general and non-committal – it was obvious that she didn't want to get engaged in any kind of chit-chat at this point or say anything remotely personal. She _seemed_ open, but was actually quite reserved.

That was interesting. Most people were just all too happy to talk about themselves, in Camille's experience.

But perhaps she was interpreting too much into this because she felt uncomfortable with the situation for some weird reason.

Her gaze wandered over to Richard. He was tapping away on his keyboard, apparently all focused and caught up in what he was writing. She wondered how much of this was real – he had clearly ogled Joey when she had first showed up, and it seemed hard to believe that he was able to ignore her now.

But then again… he had always been good at shutting things out when he wanted to focus. It was as if he was wearing blinkers then. This was a talent that Camille found equally annoying and admirable.

Fidel showed Joey the fusebox. With a little frown, she rummaged through her toolbox, took out a couple of tools – including a voltage tester - to investigate the wiring, flicked a switch… and after a few minutes, she said merrily "I think I know what to do… and I'm pretty sure that your ceiling fan will not bother you again after that, at least not for a while!"

With that, she climbed on the ladder that she had brought along and began to work quietly…

* * *

Whatever Joey had done – she had solved the problem. As she switched it on to see if it worked, the fan whisked the air perfectly smoothly, even the disturbing creaking noise that it had usually made when it was on had completely disappeared.

Richard was amazed and uttered an incredulous "Wow, that's impressive! How come that Andrew never managed to get rid of that scratching noise?" Joey gave him an impish grin and responded "Because being a typical male, he never read the fine print in the manual regarding the way it should be fixed to the ceiling. I'll spare you the gory details, but let me just say that now the danger of you getting beheaded by this fan is completely banned! If it starts to act up again, at least it won't fall off or do some other stupid thing. Would you please sign this note?" – she held out a timesheet, and Richard automatically put his signature on the dotted line. She nodded and added "Many thanks! And feel free to give me a five star review when Andrew asks about my performance!"

It was really hard to resist the twinkle in her eyes, but Richard – who didn't want to encourage her to get cheeky - managed to suppress a half smile. He even let her get away with her remark about "typical males", too – all he said was "I'll see what I can do, Miss Sullivan". It sounded pompous, but Joey detected the little hint of humour in his voice as he pronounced _'Miss Sullivan'_ \- and promptly, she started to giggle. Then she made a serious face, bobbed a curtsy to him and retorted just as pompously "Thank you so much, _sir_. I'll be forever grateful for your benevolence! And if you ever need an electrician again, it would be nice if you remembered me!"

With that, she grabbed her toolbox, gave him a nod, and wished them all a good day. Before they knew it, she was gone, and they heard the roaring of a car outside.


	4. Getting Acquainted

Chapter 4 – Getting Acquainted

Two days later, Richard and the team were having an after work get-together at La Kaz. Catherine brought them their drinks – beer for Camille, Fidel and Dwayne, and tea for Richard – and they began to discuss a few details of their recent cases. There hadn't only been the burglary, but also a couple of thefts on the market, and they were trying to find out if these thefts followed a certain pattern as they had only concerned two or three particular stalls in the same area of the market.

When Camille got up to get a jug of water, she was greeted by a tall, athletic man who was just entering the bar – he was wearing beige bermudas and a dark green shirt and sporting a self-assured broad smile. She recognised Andrew and waved when she noticed the woman he had in tow – Joey was dressed in a smoky blue blouse with a frilled collar and elbow-length wide sleeves, black capris and black sandals. Her hair wasn't tied back today, so Camille could see now that it was long enough to cover her shoulderblades. The soft blond waves emphasised Joey's rosy skin, and Camille had to admit that she looked really good. Surprisingly, the long hair didn't underline her lack of height – often times longer hair made short women look even shorter. But that was not the case with Joey. There was something about her that made people forget that she wasn't tall - she had charisma, and that made all the difference.

Andrew came up to Camille and casually bent down – wanting to kiss her cheek, but failing to do so because Camille moved a little, apparently accidentally because someone walking by had brushed her and she wanted to get out of the way – to ask "Can I have my cocktail now? I've had an awful day, so please don't let me down!"

Camille laughed and asked "So, what do you want? Maman's surprise cocktail of the day?" Andrew nodded and said "Whatever. As long as it contains lots of alcohol, I'll be happy. Her cocktails all are good!"

With that he gestured to the table and asked "Mind if we sit with you? Joey doesn't know lots of people around here yet, so she'd have at least someone to talk to…" Camille smiled and said "Sure, go ahead…" and added a friendly "Hello again, Joey" in Joey's direction – she had stayed in the background, looking around and trying to take in the general atmosphere of the bar. Joey beamed and waved at her.

There was a bit of a commotion as Richard got up and wanted to get a chair for Joey - but Dwayne was quicker. However, Joey ignored the new chair. She plopped on the seat next to Richard that Camille had just vacated and briefly greeted Fidel who was sitting on the other side and could hardly suppress a grin. It was rare that Dwayne's attempts to impress a lady with his demonstrative attentiveness and courtesy were ignored like that. Dwayne seemed untroubled – he'd just keep trying for a little while and turn his attention to someone more receptive if he didn't have any success.

Joey smiled at Richard and said with a mischevious twinkle in her eyes "So, I hope you haven't forgotten me?"

Richard got a little befuddled and failed to give a coherent reply, but she just laughed and said "I bet you didn't recognise me in plainclothes." Before he could say anything, Joey turned her head because Andrew had addressed her. Richard threw a glance in Andrew's direction. He had met him before, so he greeted him with a nod, but he wasn't particularly excited to see him. Richard had a bit of an aversion against tall, athletic men with chiseled jaws in general – it wasn't anything personal about the individual people, he just felt slightly inferior to them and knew that he had to try hard not to act in a particularly obnoxious way, showing off his intelligence, in an attempt to compensate for his complex. He was more aware or his shortcomings than others gave him credit for – it was just that they sometimes got the better of him and he reacted before realising what an idiot he made of himself by trying to 'prove' himself. If he were really self-confident, he wouldn't need this sort of thing – he knew that only too well.

"Joey, what do you want?" Andrew asked.

"Seriously? Tea would be nice," she said.

"Tea! You're not in England, Joey!" Andrew rolled his eyes.

"But the Inspector has tea… so I thought… I mean, I'm absolutely dying to have a good cup of tea after all that fizzy stuff everybody has been trying to make me drink!"

She turned to Richard and said conspiratorially "I've been out and about with him today, in various hotels for all sorts of maintenance projects, and they all wanted me to drink sweet fizzy pop. It makes me all gassy, and then I have to burp in the most unladylike manner, and I hate it! I couldn't turn it down constantly, though, so I need something to soothe my poor old stomach now!"

She pulled a face and then gave a little chuckle. Richard didn't quite know what to say, but he certainly understood Joey's longing for a decent cup of tea, so he murmured something unintelligible and hoped she would spare him the gory details of her digestive issues. He knew all the problems that could come with having to adjust to unfamiliar food, but didn't have the desire to discuss them with a stranger in public.

Andrew had sat down on the chair that Dwayne had pulled up, and when Camille came back from the bar and set down the jug of water, she saw all seats were occupied. And what was more, the most desirable seat – right next to Richard – was occupied by Joey. Camille was about to get seriously miffed now, but before she could say or do anything, Joey jumped up, a guilty expression on her face, exclaiming "Oh, I'm so sorry, Camille – let me get a chair for you." With that, she pulled up another chair and placed it between hers and Richard's. "Here you go – really, how rotten of me!" The apologetic look on her face was disarming, and once again, Camille found herself unable to be upset – and she was pleased to sit next to Richard again.

Richard, Dwayne and Andrew were engaged in a conversation about the recent futile efforts of the Honoré municipality to reform the garbage collection – they had failed because the population just hadn't accepted the changes. As Camille wasn't inclined to get involved in the topic, she turned to Joey and asked her how she liked Saint Marie.

She expected something non-committal, remembering Joey's behaviour at the police station. But surprisingly enough, the response she got was quite enthusiastic, and although Joey had mostly been busy working – "Andrew keeps me like a slave, you know, and I haven't gone out much", she explained with a laugh – she had already seen and done quite a bit on the island since her arrival almost three months ago.

Obviously, she was in the mood to talk tonight – and so she started to tell them a bit about her adventures so far. She had the gift of the gab, and soon enough, Fidel and Camille were in stitches. Joey described her first couple of days on Saint Marie so vividly that they just couldn't help but cry with laughter. Particularly outstanding was an encounter with an elderly lady she had got to know while fixing an a/c unit. "Well, you know, it's my first time on a Caribbean island, let alone a French speaking one – how was I supposed to know that? I mean, yes, you hear about voodoo and all that in the media, but it's not like you'd really know what it means. So, this old lady really scared me out of my wits!"

"That sounds like Angelique Morel and the like," Fidel said, and Camille nodded, still wiping away the tears of laughter.

Andrew had caught that last sentence, and he interjected "Oh, did Joey tell you about that encounter with the voodoo grandma? I tell you, I was awfully embarrassed when she told her that it was 'unhygienic' to keep all those parts of dead animals, herbs and branches in her house… I thought I'd die straight away – if looks could kill, I'm sure neither of us would have survived. I don't think that we'll get called to this particular household again."

"Did you really say it's unhygienic?" Camille asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah…" Joey replied, her eyebrows raised. "I mean, it is unhygienic. She had at least three dead rats sitting on a shelf, not to mention birds' nests, feathers, something that looked like a stuffed lizard and what-not. Just think of all the fleas, bugs and germs that breed on that stuff!" She stuck out her tongue in disgust and added "And the a/c just blasts all that into the air and spreads it… That's enough to make the population of a small town seriously ill!"

Camille couldn't help but giggle. She shot a surreptitious glance in Richard's direction – he was busying himself with investigating the spoon on his saucer, but she could detect that the corners of his mouth twitched in a very small, hardly visible smile. She wasn't sure if it was amusement about Joey's behaviour or satisfaction and smugness that he wasn't the only one who had distinct ideas about hygiene - and lack thereof. But whatever, he could see the humour in the situation, and that was good. He was making progress!

"Oh, come on, Andrew – it's not like there's a whole lot of competition here on the island," Dwayne said now. "You know you run the only licensed shop on this side of Saint Marie, and there are only two more in Saint Antoine and Bourges… which are both on the other side. And you all are busy, so where's the point in chiding Joey! Those people weren't really regular customers, anyway, were they!"

Andrew admitted that, but he still grumbled a little. "It is challenging sometimes, though! She embarrasses me literally everywhere," he complained, only partly in jest. "Today, she insulted at least three people by not accepting drinks that they offered…"

"Oh, those disgusting saccharine fizzy pops," his cousin exclaimed. "I already had had three of them! Three more would have been too many! Seriously, Andrew, being polite is good and well, but where's the point when I _know_ I'll be sick afterwards? Would you prefer me to drink that catlap and throw up at the next streetcorner then? Or in your precious company car? I can't imagine you'd enjoy that!"

Joey turned to Camille again and explained "He can't get over the fact that I'm more outspoken than him and sometimes say things on an impulse! I'm half Irish, you know!"

It was obvious that she felt this was a valid excuse for everything and anything.

Andrew shot her an inscrutable glance and said "Well, that 'outspoken' manner has brought you into trouble before, you know!"

Joey suddenly sobered and said slightly tensely "Yes, that's right. Thanks for reminding me…"

Camille gave her a curious look. But Joey found her smile again quickly and asked eagerly "Tell me, Camille, is it true that you were an undercover agent before you joined the Saint Marie police force? Andrew has told me some unbelievably exciting stories about how you suddenly appeared on the island a while ago – I'm dying to hear your version of it all. I mean, aren't undercover agents similar like spies? Like… say, James Bond? Or is it more like… Austin Powers or Johnny English?"

Her eyes were big and full of (real or fake? Who knew!) admiration – and a certain impish mirth -, and Camille found it impossible to resist her enthusiasm and friendly, unpretentious manners. So, she began to explain how she had ended up on Saint Marie – not without the occasional interruption from Richard's side who couldn't resist mentioning that her attempt at impersonating Charlie Hulme's cleaner hadn't been very convincing and that he'd never ever fall for her shedding crocodile tears again.

"So you arrested her?" Joey was clearly amused.

"Yes, he did, and she had to cover up with Dwayne's shirt because she only wore a bikini and the Chief wouldn't let her walk around 'half-naked', and then she spent a rather uncomfortable hour in one of the cells, together with a goat…"

Fidel said it with a certain gleam in his eyes and slight reproach in his voice. He couldn't help it, but he found it unfair that Camille kept banging on how Richard had arrested her and blown her cover. It had partly been the Commissioner's fault because he hadn't informed Richard, and so the Chief had only done his job… Camille had appeared to be a suspect, after all!

"A _goat_? Are you serious? Why would you keep a goat in one of your cells?" Andrew interjected. He hadn't heard that part of the story before.

Dwayne explained and then said "And when the Commissioner came and said that Camille would be our new DS, you should have seen these two" – he pointed at Richard and Camille who both seemed a little embarrassed now – "they both said in unison that they couldn't work with each other!"

Richard cleared his throat and added "That's right. But we've changed our mind in the meantime, haven't we, Camille?"

Camille was taken aback by the half-serious, half-amused look in his eyes. What was that? Whenever this story had come up before, he had been keen on making it clear that she was a pain in the neck with her "French-ness" and that she was just another nail on his coffin… And good grief, now he was even smiling – which had an unexpected effect on her stomach that just kind of flipped for a moment.

She couldn't help it, she just had to smile back at him, and she confirmed "Yes, we have – at least partly. You're still the most annoying man on the entire island, though…"

Richard pursed his lips and said matter-of-factly "Well, it's a _small_ island, isn't it. I think I can live with this verdict, as questionable as it may be…"

Andrew and Joey both laughed. Fidel noticed a slightly wistful look in the young woman's eyes – but before he could decide what it was about, it was gone again, and Joey smiled warmly, saying "Oh, how funny you all are! I wish I had met you earlier already! I'm sure I'll have a jolly good time here now that I know you!"


	5. Suspicions

Chapter 5 – Suspicions

„You know, sir... I can't quite put my finger on what it is, but I have the feeling she's hiding something." Camille's voice was thoughtful.

"How do you mean, Camille?" Richard asked, mildly curious now.

"I don't know…" she responded slowly.

They were sitting on Richard's veranda, sharing a bottle of water and listening to the waves lapping on the beach. A citronella candle was shedding a little light on the table between them. Camille was pleased that she finally got to spend a little quiet time with Richard – something that she had wanted for a while now, without really knowing what she expected from it. She knew that he wouldn't get romantic with her, but somehow spending time with him was fun – unless he was in the mood for a rant… fortunately, that didn't happen so often any more these days! Usually, they had a good-natured chat, sometimes she learnt a little tidbit about his past, or they talked about a case… He had become a bit more 'human' with time, less uptight and buttoned-up. Still, calling him 'casual' or 'relaxed' would have been an exaggeration.

A week had gone by, and Richard and his team had caught the thief who had done the shoplifting at the market – after some investigation, they had been able to figure out a pattern, and in the end, they had caught him in the act – more by coincidence than by planning, but it was a success, anyway. They hadn't solved the case of the burglary yet, though – there were a few traces, but nothing substantial.

They had spent another evening at Catherine's bar, and although Richard had intended to leave rather early, he hadn't ended up getting back to his house before 11 p.m. because Andrew and Joey had showed up again, and they had spent a fun evening together.

Fidel had gone home at around 10 p.m., and Dwayne had wandered off from time to time, as he usually did when he got bored by the conversation or saw a friend somewhere, but Camille and Richard had spent almost the entire evening sitting with Andrew and his lively cousin. Joey was very entertaining, and although Richard found her sense of humour a little drastic at times, he enjoyed her company. It was not that he would have had to say much – most of the time, the two women had talked, Andrew and Richard sometimes had rolled their eyes, and occasionally, one of them had thrown in a word or two.

Richard still wasn't all that keen on Andrew, but he realised that it was more about himself than about Andrew, and he tried to ignore the temptation to make Andrew look stupid – he would have had a few opportunities as Andrew was blissfully ignorant about a couple of things that Richard was well-informed about. However, it seemed pointless to be competitive here – why bother?

Still, it was a bit sad to see how everyone seemed to be at ease with Andrew's ignorance, and nobody cared to know how well-informed he – Richard – was about the world. He didn't bother trying to analyse his feelings – if he had given it some thought, he would have realised that he was plain jealous, but of course, that would have been beneath him – so he wouldn't have acknowledged it, anyway.

It was ironic: He had an analytical mind, and he was intelligent, and he had learnt to question not only other people's motives, but also his own, still he didn't make any real efforts to overcome his flaws – although he would have had the capacities to do so.

But the truth was that he had nobody to talk to about his insights – as far as they concerned himself – so he tended to either neglect them or try and justify them by rearranging the details of circumstances so his behaviour seemed more acceptable than it really was. Deep down, he knew about a lot of his weaknesses, but he couldn't admit them – to himself, maybe, reluctantly… but talking about them to others, let alone asking for advice – that was completely out of the question.

Joey had asked Camille for a recommendation regarding a gym or a fitness class, and Camille had invited her to join her at her fitness centre one of the next days. She had described some of the classes that were available and explained why she was training with a particular coach, and after listening to all that, Richard hadn't been wondering any more why she was so incredibly fit. She obviously got a variety of exercise! Camille usually went to the gym at least two or three times a week, and she also went for the occasional run.

Joey had mentioned that she'd need to get back into shape again – apparently she hadn't done much over the past six months.

"Yeah, round is a shape, sure. I'm mostly concerned about my lack of fitness, to be honest. I'll never be skinny, but that doesn't bother me. Of course, it took me a while to get used to the climate here, but now that I've been around for a while, I think I can handle it… I'm really not as fit as I used to be… Okay, I'll be honest, my fitness level hasn't been that great for quite a while now, although I used to be very fit when I first went to university… But look at me now…" she had said with a slightly self-contemptuous expression on her face.

Camille had raised her eyebrows. "You went to university? What did you study?" she had asked curiously.

"Oh, didn't I mention it? I'm sorry, I thought I did!" Joey had replied. "As it is, I've got a Bachelor in Engineering. You already know that I'm a trained and qualified electrician – did that before going to uni. I was there on a scholarship, for that matter. So, basically, I'm ridiculously over-qualified for Andrew's store."

She had given a wicked little laugh and continued "But that all isn't of much use when you're without a job and nobody wants to employ you." Suddenly, a shadow had fallen on her face. She had paused, and it had seemed that she wanted to say more, but then she obviously had changed her mind. Looking over to Richard who had tried to stifle a yawn, she had remarked to Camille "It seems that the Inspector is getting a bit tired of my ramblings, huh?"

Richard had hastened to assure her that he wasn't tired at all, but it had been obvious that he had longed for the peace of his shack and only had stayed around out of lethargy and indecisiveness, so Camille had taken pity on him and asked if he'd wanted a lift home. He had accepted, and after they had said their goodbyes to Joey and Andrew, she had driven him to his house on the beach. Instead of turning around and going home rightaway, she had shut down the engine, and although it had already been quite late, he had taken the cue and asked if she wanted to stay for a drink.

"It's not like she's a suspect in one of our cases," Camille took up the thread again, "so there's no reason to scrutinise everything she says – or doesn't say – but it makes me a little uneasy every once in a while. The way her face suddenly gets 'darker', for lack of a better word…. It makes me wonder if she might need help, but doesn't want to reach out for it… And I feel she's censoring herself about something. Something that's important to her. And it seems out of character. She's so open and entertaining, and yet…"

She stopped mid-sentence.

Richard took another swig of water and said drily "Ah, but Camille… don't we all hide one thing or another? I mean, is there nothing in your life you'd rather not tell anybody? At least not rightaway?"

Camille shot him a sideways glance and replied thoughtfully "Well… there's a difference between burying something so deep inside that nobody can find it and censoring yourself in conversations."

She was silent for a moment, and she felt a sudden wave of shame washing over her. Wasn't she hiding something from others as well? Who was she to touch this subject, after all? Shouldn't she rather keep her mouth shut?

But then she went on to say "Yes, sure… you are right. I'm not particularly proud of some of the things I did in the past, for whatever reason… and I'm not keen on others finding out about my weaknesses rightaway, either…"

"Not that you had any worth mentioning," he said sardonically. Before she could make a reply, he continued "Well, if you don't have a clue, I have no idea who else would find out. She's taken quite a shine to you, as it seems – she's very 'matey' towards you, isn't she?"

Camille huffed and said a little waspishly "And what's wrong with that? I'm a nice person, after all! With one exception here on the island – and that person is sitting on this veranda right now – everybody knows that!"

He remained provocatively quiet, and she snorted again in discountenance.

When he still didn't say anything, she shot him a pointed look and asked "Would you rather have her taken a shine to _you_ instead?"

Richard rolled his eyes and asked – slightly irritated – "Why would I want her to do that?"

She knew it was nonsense, but before she could stop herself, she blurted out "Oh, I don't know… the way you ogled her when she first showed up was rather obvious, wasn't it? You can hardly overlook her shiny blond hair, her rosy skin and her – er – female assets…"

Richard let out a long frustrated sigh. Why did she have to go on about this topic? Did she have some silly inferiority complex? Not that she had any reason for that, but really, she almost seemed obsessed with the topic. As if men only could focus on outer appearance when a woman showed up… Not everyone was as shallow as that. Well, he wasn't, at least. Attractive women made him nervous, but he didn't only define women over their looks. He also was receptive to charisma and susceptible to good manners and education… and a lot of other traits, come to think of it.

With a somewhat exasperated undertone, he said "I did not ogle her, Camille. I never ogle. Particularly not at work. If I did, it would be for professional reasons. And outside of work, I can ogle as much as I want to. Provided I knew how to ogle. Which I don't."

Camille gave him one of her famous looks, and much to her surprise, he didn't look away or make more efforts to 'justify' or 'explain' his behaviour. He just kept looking at her, with a mix of patience and stubborness in his eyes, holding her gaze, willing her to give in.

She withstood for as long as possible, but eventually, she looked away. However, she couldn't admit defeat, so she said defiantly "Whatever."

He had half expected her to jump up and stomp off – as she had done before when they had bickered like this. But she remained sitting and said thoughtfully "I wish I knew what she's not telling us. It was obvious that she was taking your yawn as an excuse to end the conversation…"

"So it's my fault that you haven't found out her secret yet?" he asked sarcastically. She laughed now and said "Don't be silly. I was just mentioning it. And I will find out sooner or later, so…"

She shot him a provocative glance, and he looked back at her, a hint of amusement on his face. "You always do, don't you? What is it that makes you find out people's secrets? I have never quite understood how you do it!"

"Empathy, sir. It's empathy. I'm interested in people, and they notice it's genuine… That is, most do."

She got up now and fired off her final bullet for the evening: "Except for you. You haven't got it so far. You just don't seem to get that it's not plain nosey-ness, but that it's about understanding and caring about people. And in case you haven't realised yet - I find your attitude very frustrating."

She lifted her hand, waved it in a little farewell gesture, and said "Good night for now, sir, and sweet dreams!"

The latter part came out with a little sarcastic smile, and before Richard could come up with a suitable repartee, she was gone.

* * *

The next few days were rather uneventful, although they finally could solve the case of the burglary. They had dusted fingerprints in the house – to no avail. The burglar(s) must have worn gloves. But there had been a few suspects and traces, and the final breakthrough had come when one of the antiquaries in St. Victoire had recognised a vase that had been stolen – among other things. Someone had wanted to sell it to him a few days after the burglary had happened.

The owners had taken photographs of every single item in their collection, and this vase was particularly remarkable because of its unusual shape.

The antiquary had intended to call the police, anyway, but Fidel and Dwayne had showed up on his doorstep before he could make the call. It had taken the owners a few days to locate the album with the photos – they were older people and hadn't switched to digitalising their pictures yet – but as soon as they had come up with the pictures, Fidel and Dwayne had set off to interrogate the owners of the two antique stores on the island. They had started locally, but the burglar had been clever enough not to try his luck in Honoré. The shop in St. Victoire was a little smaller and less frequented, so it had been second on their list.

The shopowner had described the young man. When Fidel had written the description in his notebook – with little hope that they'd find him because it sounded like a rather generic description – the man had added "He wasn't from the island, though. He said he lives over in Antigua and wanted to go back on the same day, so this would be my only chance to buy the vase. Didn't like him much – he snooped around in the shop, and he almost dropped that precious little china figurine over there."

Fidel had looked up from his notebook and asked "So, did he actually touch it, sir?" "Yes, sure, that's what he did." The shopowner suddenly realised what that meant and blushed.

"Good grief. I guess that means you can get fingerprints from it. I'm so sorry – I should have thought of this - what a dimwit I am!" Fidel was inclined to agree with him, but remained silent. He was a polite man, after all.

So they had dusted fingerprints again, sent them to Guadeloupe, and a day later, they had known the identity of the burglar. Or at least of the man who had tried to sell the vase. He was the nephew of one of Honoré's shadier inhabitants, and indeed, he lived on Antigua. They had passed on all the relevant data to the police over there, and the man had been arrested. It hadn't been his first encounter with the police, apparently, and after some back and forth, contradictions and prevarications, he had confessed the burglary. He had been on his own, so they didn't have to look for further offenders.

And so the case had been solved, much to everyone's satisfaction. The entire team hoped something more interesting would turn up soon… they were all getting a bit bored now.


	6. Shadows from the Past

Chapter 6 – Shadows from the Past

But as it was, their wish was not granted. Other than the solved case of the burglary, nothing of relevance happened – there were the usual routine jobs to do, Fidel was called to a brawl in a pub while he was on call one night, and Dwayne helped a lady to retrieve her cat from under her house. The usual market patrols happened – and got extended as there wasn't really much else to do.

Richard and Camille kept themselves busy with paperwork, and since neither of them was particularly enthusiastic about that, they bickered quite a bit. It was mostly friendly, but every once in a while, there was a tense undertone. Overall, their work was boring, dull and humdrum at the moment.

Camille figured it was time to find an outlet and focus on other activities besides work (and thinking about Richard, his lack of attention towards her, and his annoying – yet inexplicably irresistible - quirks), so she decided to focus more on her fitness again. She found that – for her - this was the best way to handle boredom, frustration, stress and worries – getting physically active _always_ helped her. So, she added another class to her schedule and invited Joey to come along to the gym so she could get an idea of what kind of things she could do there. Obviously, there was no pool – this was the Caribbean, so if you wanted to swim, you went to the beach, after all – but other than that, the gym offered pretty much everything one could ask for.

Joey was happy to tag along whenever possible, and so the two women spent quite a bit of time together. They took aerobics, tried a Zumba class, joined a Tae Bo workshop and did weight lifting. Afterwards, they sometimes went to La Kaz for a drink and a snack, and once or twice, Camille also invited Joey to come to her house and watch a movie with her. It was obvious that they enjoyed each other's company, and they had a lot of fun together.

It had been a long time since Camille had formed any sincere friendships. When she had left for France many years ago, she had lost touch with everyone but her friend Aimee. She had made some friends in France, of course, but some had gone away on 'missions' after a while, and the remaining ones she had had to leave when she had returned to the Caribbean over two years ago. Their contact had only been sporadic since then, at best, and Camille was painfully aware of how she and her former friends had drifted apart.

Life as an undercover police officer wasn't always as adventurous and interesting as many people thought it was – there were many routine tasks involved, and she hadn't really walked around in stunning black clothing or glamorous evening gowns constantly, making the most baffling discoveries… the better part of her working hours had involved waiting around for something to happen… in cars, in restaurants, on street benches, in office surroundings… Usually, she had taken on mundane, low-profile jobs to become more invisible in the presence of the people she was investigating – as a waitress, as a hospital porter, as a maid…

She had enjoyed it, though, as she had felt she was part of a bigger organisation, and she was making important contributions with her observations. What she hadn't enjoyed, though, was the loneliness that it could bring. You had to be ready to get up and leave in a heartbeat, and making friends from 'outside' had been a no-go while being in an undercover operation… You could only rely on your network of friends from training times – and sometimes not even on that…

When the opportunity had come up to move back to the Caribbean and assist in an undercover operation there, she had grabbed it – she had been homesick. And there had been other reasons, too…

But being back on her home soil had made her realise how much she missed being a part of the community here, and she had perhaps become a little less guarded and cautious because of that…

So, when Richard had blown her cover, it had been a blessing in disguise, as she felt now. She wouldn't ever have admitted it to anybody, but she had been a little tired of the lonely life she had had to lead. Sure, it had been exciting in a way. But she had always been by herself, there hadn't been a chance to make friends and have a regular social life… not to mention a _real_ love life. There hadn't been room for serious, committed relationships. She had had a couple of superficial connections, but it hadn't gone far – a fling here and there, a few months of fun and games… but she had never been in a safe, stable relationship. The longer she had been on the job, the more she had been longing for someone to hold on to, someone to confide in, someone to rely on. Then… she had met someone, but it hadn't developed the way she had hoped it would. And now, she rather wanted to forget about that chapter in her life.

Of course she had been aware of the fact that once people had found out she had been working undercover in their surroundings, they had questioned every word she had ever said to them. They surely had suspected that literally everything she had ever said or done had been a lie, and that she was nothing but a fake. Not that anybody ever had a chance to tell her – once her projects were finished, she disappeared without a trace, leaving people wondering.

That had pulled her down more than she had ever let on – particularly as the years had gone by, and the novelty and the thrill of the job had worn off a bit.

After her return to the regular forces, she had reconnected with Aimee, but her friend had been busy touring, and only a little over a year after her return to Saint Marie, Aimee had been killed. Ever since, Camille had been quite lonely. So many years of friendship, all the memories they had shared – they were gone now, and there was nobody who could replace Aimee. And for a while, Camille had avoided getting closer to people. She had buried her grief deep in her heart, tried to move on and decided not to let anybody get closer again.

Deep inside, she knew it was unfair to tease Richard about his reluctance to open up to people – basically, she was doing the same thing, just in a different way. While he was stand-offish and pompous to hide his insecurity and claimed he didn't want anybody around, she was friendly with everyone – without really getting too personal with people. She had lots of acquaintances, and of course, there was her mother whom she loved dearly, but other than that, she mostly relied on herself for the time being.

So, letting Joey into her life was a major step for her. Despite the fun they had, Camille still felt that Joey was hiding something, but she didn't dig deeper. She noticed how Joey avoided certain topics or tried to change the subject when something came up that she felt uncomfortable with, and Camille let her be – she figured that Joey would talk about it eventually – whatever it was that bothered her. She knew that it was a matter of trust, and there was nothing wrong with being cautious. So, she was patient and didn't put pressure on Joey. For now, she was just happy to have a girlfriend again with whom she could share her everday life.

Plus she wasn't entirely open about herself, either – so who was she to point her finger at Joey for not disclosing every little detail about her life?

* * *

Richard was pleased for Camille that she had found a new friend in Joey. He had had an inkling that she had felt lonely since Aimee's death. As unlikely as it sounded to associate Camille with loneliness when she was so sociable and seemed to be the life of the party wherever she went… he knew everything about loneliness, and he could read the signs. Camille was good at covering it up – perhaps, she was too proud to admit that her life wasn't always sunshine and fairytales, and she definitely was a strong and determined person, so maybe this all didn't fit into her picture of herself, and she tried to ignore it - but he had noticed the inner sadness that she kept trying to hide behind a happy face, and he had wished he could do something about it, but he had figured that he couldn't give her what she needed, being an outcast himself, so Joey's arrival on the scene had been welcome.

He figured that Camille thought he was unfeeling. He wasn't – he just didn't know how to show his emotions. He had kind of forgotten how to do it over the years. Also, he felt that his emotions were nobody's business but his own. It wasn't good to show your feelings too openly… You'd just get hurt.

He had always been a bit of a loner. It took him so long to get comfortable with someone – most people just didn't have the patience for that.

It had always been difficult for him… he had never been outgoing, not even as a child. He was shy by nature, and the bookish, slightly moony, shy boy had grown into a nerdy, shy, withdrawn teenager during his time at boarding school… and into an awkward, reserved – and yes, shy! - man at university.

He had loosened up a little there as he had become part of a group of students who met up casually from time to time, but his accuracy and general scrupulousness hadn't been 'cool' enough to make him a desirable person to 'hang out' with, and so he still had spent most of his time on his own – wishing it was different, but not knowing how to change his situation. He had hoped it would all change when he met that special someone, the woman who'd take him the way he was, accept him, and make him feel 'at home', safe and secure. But that hope had never materialised, and one after another, he had buried his dreams.

He had met a few girls he had gone out with for a little while, but nothing serious had ever come out of it. Some had hurt him, some had laughed at him. Others had taken pity on him. Others again had been nice at first, then they had fallen out over something, or the relationships had got stalled and ended before they had really started. Usually, that had happened because he was too slow and didn't open up the way the girls had expected him to. Also, his insecurities regarding the physical side of a relationship had caused problems… the experiences he had made in that department had overall not been glorious. Not all of them had been disasters, but in general, he had felt fairly inadequate, and that had made it harder and harder for him to muster up the courage to try and get to know someone. He wasn't the type who found it easy to talk to women, let alone get physically close to them, and eventually, the girls who had given him a chance at first, had lost patience and turned to other men who were more open and straightforward.

Every time when yet another connection had failed, another little piece of his already low self-esteem had crumpled and died. Then, after he had almost given up hope, he had fallen in love – and his heart had been broken when he had learnt that the girl in question hadn't loved him back, but only seen a good friend in him. After that, it had been over for him. Ever since, he had shut down to others. Nobody should get close to him, so he wouldn't be hurt again… and again. This had run through his entire life like a red thread, and he had built up a huge wall around himself, trying not to let others in any more.

So, overall, he had always been the odd man out. Despite the fact that it was partly his own choice to live like that, he hadn't felt entirely comfortable in his skin, and it had taken him a long time to accept himself. It hadn't helped that back in the UK, he had always been bullied – for whatever reason. There had always been some idiot who had poked fun at him and others who had happily joined the gang of hangers-on, looking down on him and making his life difficult. He had stopped counting the ways others had tried to humiliate and show him up – he had learnt to avoid precarious situations as a consequence. He had also tried to learn not to care. It had been difficult, but he had developed a strategy of blocking out things that he didn't want to deal with – that had been a lifesaver. He had lived in his own world and tried not to have too many overlappings with other people – which had made him even more lonely, but at least he hadn't got hurt so much. He hadn't been happy, but he had got used to it. He hadn't known anything else, after all.

The strange thing was that it had happened here on Saint Marie that he had learnt to enjoy his own company, and very slowly, he had realised that his wounds were healing, and his pain was diminishing. As unlikely as it seemed, Saint Marie had set him free in a way. He had complained about the island, he had fretted about the limited equipment, he had nagged about the prehistoric working conditions (and he still did all that from time to time) – but he had actually never had a team like this, and it was here that he could finally show off his full potential. Investigating, putting the pieces together, solving puzzles – he was good at that.

Once he had accepted his situation, he had become calmer, less irritable, less annoyed – and so the UK hadn't seemed like heaven on earth any more after a while. Still, he had been determined to get posted back in the UK during the first year on Saint Marie – and when the chance had come up towards the end of that first year, he had been determined to grab it – even if it had taken him back to the station at Croydon, a place he had hated with every fibre of his body, heart and soul (not that souls were made of fibres, as far as he knew, but well… he liked the expression, anyway). It had fallen through, and although he had been a bit disappointed when he had realised he would have to stay on, he hadn't really dwelled too much on it.

When he had travelled to Britain at the end of his second year – escorting a suspect – he had enjoyed his stay there, but – despite his issues with the Caribbean climate - he had been relieved to return to Saint Marie – to his ramshackle old beach bungalow, to his work, to his team, to Camille.

The only time that he had opened the door a little to let in a woman had been early in his second year on Saint Marie when the murder in the Meditation Space of a yoga retreat had happened and he had encountered Julia Higgins, a beautiful woman in her early 20s… Of course, she had been way too young for him. But she had been so soft, so sweet, so lovely… and she had come to his place after sunset to thank him for believing in her innocence – and to go skinny-dipping with him. With _him_ … what a startling idea! Naturally, that hadn't happened, but he had summoned up all his courage and asked her if she wanted to go for a drink with him some time. Much to his surprise, she had agreed… That hadn't materialised, either… for grim reasons… and it had shaken him badly.

However, no matter how sad and tragically final their acquaintance had ended… Julia had made him realise again that he was a man, after all, and that he might not be as hopeless a case as he had thought over all those years. That had resulted in him being a bit more open towards Camille… and she had been more open, too, as a consequence. Not that their relationship was anything else than friendship at best. She was so feisty and self-confident… he could never live up to her standards, he just _knew_ that…. She intimidated him.

But he cared a lot about her, and he was relieved to see her happier and more relaxed than before – now that she had Joey, she was easier to get on with in general because she had more than her work, her mother's bar and her occasional almost feverish dancing nights with 'people she knew' (but didn't really know beyond a superficial level) on weekends.

Richard hoped sincerely that Camille wouldn't have to face any nasty surprises with her new friendship. He had not forgotten Camille's remark that Joey was hiding something. Well, whatever it was – sooner or later, it would come out, and then he just hoped it wouldn't be anything too dramatic.

The current lull at work gave him time to read and do puzzles in his shack, take walks along the beach on his way home (secretly, with his jacket folded over his arm and his sleeves rolled up – he had even taken off his shoes a couple of times, although he loathed the sand… but he wanted to try and understand what others liked so much about it, plus getting sand into his shoes was worse than going barefoot), and to just sit on his veranda and think about life or daydream.

It did him good to have a chance to relax, re-group and look at his life from a different angle – although it didn't help him to get over his confusion regarding the relationship with Camille. He had no idea what to make of it, and rationally, he knew that overthinking wouldn't change a thing, either.

So, he resorted to a mix of thinking about the 'issue' and looking for distraction. It made him feel a little less anxious about the situation, and he was relieved to realise that he could live with how things were going at the moment.

Maybe, with time, Camille would sense that he was worth a second glance. Maybe, with time, he would find a way to make a move towards her without making a complete fool of himself…

But for now, he'd just leave things the way they were.


	7. Socialising

Chapter 7 – Socialising

Unfortunately, things didn't pick up for quite a while. The team settled into a slow routine with lots of market and harbour patrols, getting paperwork done, sorting old files… It really wasn't very satisfying.

Camille spent quite some time flipping through fashion and fitness magazines, opening the enclosed perfume or make up samples and trying them on her skin, only to find out that they didn't suit her, and reading horoscopes and other things that Richard considered nonsense. That was after she had cleared out the depths of the her desk drawers and thrown away cartloads of dried out glue sticks, old elastic bands, pens that had seen better days, plus ugly green nail polish and a set of colourful, but broken barrettes that had somehow surfaced from the bottom of a drawer and that had originally belonged to Lily Thompson, the officer who had killed Richard's predecessor Charlie Hulme.

All these things distracted her from her worked-up mind that kept revolving around how she could make Richard react to her – preferably in a _positive_ way. Although it helped a little, she kept coming back to the same thoughts and feelings, and it made her uneasy and edgy. Why, oh why was he as cool as a cucumber in her presence? Didn't he feel the tension? Didn't he notice the sparks? Was he immune to her charms? Wasn't she his type, maybe? Did he have a type at all, for that matter? And why, oh why did she care so much?

Camille's restlessness was hard to bear, and Richard – who struggled with this lull, too, not to mention his own confused feelings – found it difficult not to snap at her for her excessive rummaging around the station. After a particularly unpleasant Tuesday when she had literally turned everything upside down and driven them all batty with her attempts at reorganising things, he was beginning to wonder if maybe he'd try to give her a sedative some time… She could really be a pest when she was in a restless mood.

They all met up at La Kaz again that evening. Fidel brought along Juliet – her parents had come over to babysit Rosie, and the young couple took advantage of the opportunity to go out and spend some time away from home. They had just sat down when Joey and Andrew showed up. Within minutes, the three women were engrossed in a conversation about all sorts of things.

Richard heard Camille complaining about the slow times at work and how there was nothing exciting happening. Juliet said "Oh, you poor thing. Nothing worse than having a slack period at work. You know I worked as a secretary for a shipping company for a few years – that was before my last job… every once in a while we would go through those slow spells, and it was just awful. I always tried to keep myself busy, but it really was hard at times… It helped that Fidel and I just had started dating during my penultimate year there – I had lots of nice things to dream about then!" She laughed out loud, and Joey and Camille joined the laughter – which only got louder when they saw Fidel's embarrassed face.

In an attempt to distract them and steer the conversation into another direction, Fidel cleared his throat and said "Perhaps we should just organise something out of work so we'd have something to look forward to. We haven't had a decent party in a while, have we…"

Juliet grabbed his hand and exclaimed "Right – that's a fantastic idea, Fidel! Mind you, my mother just said today she wished she could have Rosie over at their place for a weekend – she'd love that… I could call her and ask if the next weekend would be okay with her and dad, and then we could have an open house on Saturday… you know, we'll start out with drinks, cake and sweets in the afternoon, by the beach, and then we'd have a barbecue later on and some dancing… mum and dad could come for lunch and stay for a while, and then they could take Rosie with them for the night and bring her back on Sunday afternoon… what do you think?" A pleading look appeared on her face, and she added "Come on, honey – say yes… please!"

Fidel looked a little taken aback for a moment – he hadn't expected Juliet to come up with a suggestion like that. There was no way he could say 'no' at this point – he had brought up the idea, and Juliet had taken up the thread and come up with a plan rightaway… a plan that sounded so good to the other two ladies that they chimed in. Camille exclaimed "Oh yes, please, Fidel! That would be so much fun!", and Joey nodded enthusiastically. Fidel knew that he didn't stand a chance, and so he said (albeit a little reluctantly) "Well, if your parents are okay with it… I don't mind…"

Camille jumped up, ran around the table and hugged the surprised Fidel, Joey shouted "Hooray!", and Juliet gave her husband a heartfelt smile before she pulled out her phone to call her mother. She got up and stepped outside the bar for a moment so she could talk without getting disturbed, and when she came back, she beamed. With satisfaction in her voice, she announced "It's a deal. Mum and I will discuss the details tomorrow, and she'll also help me with the shopping and all the preparations! Oh, thank you, Fidel – that should be so much fun!"

Richard had observed the whole scenario with some apprehension. He knew he'd get invited – and while he was pleased that his team included him in activities, he wasn't so sure about an afternoon on the beach, a barbecue and – worst of all! – music and possibly dancing later on…

It sounded like a long day, and knowing Camille, she would nag at him if he didn't come to the beach… and she'd also nag at him if he tried to leave early. And Juliet and Fidel would be disappointed if he came late or left early, too, so he was trapped. He didn't want to offend anyone – during his first year, he had offended his team and everyone else quite a bit – simply because he hadn't believed anybody would want to spend time with him, and he had been so used to saying 'no' that he hadn't realised how frustrating his behaviour had been. It had taken him some time to understand that they hadn't asked him only out of politeness, but mostly because they had wanted to give him a chance to adjust better to island life.

A disheartening thought suddenly crossed his mind… hopefully nobody would expect him to dance – he was useless with that sort of thing. Well, the truth was – he wasn't entirely hopeless when it came to dancing… it was more that he was hopeless with social events in general. He never knew what to say, and often times, he felt he'd be happier if he could just sit somewhere with a book and read. Books were easy. Books were safe. You could open and close them the way you wanted, and you didn't have to worry that they'd do surprising things to unsettle you or force you to react… You could always go back and re-read a certain passage if you weren't quite sure what it was supposed to mean. And when you weren't sure about a character in a book, it didn't have any consequences… it was certainly easier than in real life…

When he had reached that point in his musings, Juliet turned to him and said "You're coming, too, sir, aren't you? We'll have chairs on the porch near the beach, and you can go swimming, if you like…"

Before he could come up with anything in response, he heard Camille laugh and say "Oh, forget it, Juliet. He won't set foot near the sea… he'll sit around on the porch all the time and complain about the sand, the sun and the water!"

He was about to retort when he got support from a completely unexpected side… Joey interjected "Well, that makes already two of us then… I don't really swim, either!"

She passed him an encouraging glance and said "What fun we'll have – you and I sitting there with our tea, poking fun at the others making fools of themselves in the waves!"

Dwayne exclaimed "What!? You don't swim? I'll teach you! You've got to learn it, Joey – I'm sure you look fantastic in a bikini!"

Joey turned around to him – there was an enigmatic look in her eyes when she responded "Oh, never mind, Dwayne – I didn't say I can't swim. I rather said I don't swim – which is an entirely different thing! But thanks for offering your help! That's very kind of you!"

Her voice sounded entirely normal and friendly… still, Richard felt for a moment that there was a strange undertone in it… but then she laughed, and the feeling dissipated.

Dwayne gave a funny response, and the conversation started to revolve around the joys of swimming in the open sea, the problems that seagrass brought to the beaches, and Andrew mentioned how some of the big resorts employed locals to rake the sand…

Later that evening when Richard was at home, brewing himself a mug of tea, he tried to pinpoint what exactly had been in Joey's voice. He hadn't been able to put his finger on it earlier on… but there had been _something_.

He sat there brooding over his tea when it suddenly dawned upon him that it had been coldness and hostility. Yes, a latent hostility – and maybe even a hint of fear. Hmm. That was interesting. He wondered if this was maybe part of the secret that Joey was hiding…

Well, perhaps he'd find out some time. His curiosity was piqued, but there was no reason for him to investigate, and it was none of his business, anyway.

He sighed as he put away his mug and got ready for bed. Joey's remark that she didn't swim had come out of the blue, and it had surprised him – she was athletic, and she clearly liked to exercise, so why had she said she didn't 'really' swim? What did 'really' mean in that context? Either, you did swim, or you didn't swim – there was nothing in between…

Well, admittedly, that wasn't quite true… in theory, he swam – he had learnt it back in the stone ages – at school, actually - , and he had gone to the pool once a fortnight while he had lived in Croydon – to work off frustrations and negative feelings. He had also gone running at least once a week, usually more often than that when he could make the time – for the same reason. But over here, due to the climate and the extreme weather conditions, he didn't exercise at all, and that included swimming – so, maybe that was what Joey meant… that she _could_ swim, but hadn't done it in a while? Oh, whatever…

In any event, he wasn't so sure it was a good idea of her to take his side. He had seen Camille's irritated look – something that he had identified as jealousy had flared up in her eyes for a moment. He knew that Joey's friendship was important to her, and he also knew that she was very touchy when she had the feeling that someone wasn't giving her the attention that she thought she deserved – at least when that person was important to her.

He was afraid that she would feel let down by Joey. He didn't want to be the reason for a rift between Camille and her new friend...

* * *

It didn't occur to him that Camille might have an entirely different reason for being jealous and feeling a bit let down – it was not because he was taking away Joey's attention from her. It was rather because she felt that Joey had apparently taken up the cudgels for Richard… and that annoyed her a bit.

It was not so much that she didn't want Joey to get along with Richard… it was more that she feared Richard would fall for Joey.

Joey with her great sense of humour, Joey with her love for tea, Joey with her dislike of germs, Joey with her _Englishness_ … and Joey with her rosy skin, her beautiful blonde hair, her big friendly eyes, her contagious laughter – and (last but not least) her big chest.

Not that she thought Richard was superficial enough to fall for outer appearance, but the constant question about what his 'type' was kept hovering in her head. Given the fact that he had claimed he hadn't figured it out himself, either, there was a certain chance that he had no particular type and was less set in his ways here than in other aspects of his life. That meant he could fall for anyone.

That left all sorts of possibilities open for _whoever_ … and that was all good and well, but if she was honest with herself, she didn't want him to fall for Joey. She wanted him to fall for herself. Still, she couldn't quite bring herself to seeing Joey as a rival… she liked her too much.

And admittedly, Joey didn't do anything to make Richard look at her – she didn't show off her body or flirt with him. She wasn't like some of the other English women that they had got to know through work – Megan Talbot, for example, who had clearly played the 'damsel in distress' and tried to manipulate Richard, or Liz Curtis, the insurance employee who had tried to lead them on and confused poor Fidel by parading in front of him and making him all jittery – Fidel had later on admitted that he had felt very guilty for staring at her so openly. Camille had had to convince him that he wouldn't have to confess this to Juliet – nobody would gain anything from a confession like that… After some serious thinking, Fidel had agreed – but it had taken him a while to get over what he had called 'his lapse', and he had bought Juliet a particularly pretty necklace for their wedding anniversary – to make it up to her that he had almost lost his mind for a moment.

No, Joey wasn't like anybody else she had ever encountered. The truth was that Camille had conflicting feelings about Joey. From their first encounter, she had been torn between affection and suspicion… there was something about Joey that she couldn't quite pinpoint, and her evasive manner made her suspicious. By the same token, Joey was so disarmingly spunky and mettlesome, she had a wonderful sense of humour, and it was fun to be around her. Going to the gym with her was a lot more enjoyable than going alone, and they shared so much laughter – she hadn't had so much fun in a long time.

She hadn't felt that way about anyone in a while. After Aimee's death, she hadn't really wanted close friendships any more – at least not in a while. She had lost too many friends already – through her moves, through her erratic work schedules, through her professional ambitions, through all sorts of circumstances… and through death, as in Aimee's case. She had thought she'd lose Richard, too, when he went to the UK to escort a suspect towards the end of his second year – he didn't know, but she considered him a friend – albeit a reluctant, difficult, challenging one! - and the truth was that she knew for sure that her feelings for him ran deeper than that.

However, it seemed pointless to try and get closer to him – his behaviour towards her was consistently the same, and she just couldn't see that she was making progress with him… What an utterly annoying man he was! But still, he was her friend… and Joey was her friend, too. Why couldn't she just be happy about the two of them becoming friends, too?

This was all very confusing.


	8. A Day Out

Chapter 8 – A Day Out

Saturday came, and Richard stood outside his shack, waiting for his cab to come. He hoped that someone would give him a lift back home after the party… Juliet had offered him to stay at the Bests' place for the night, but he didn't really want to do that. He preferred having his own bed – although the mattress definitely was a case for the garbage dump by now; he really should get a new one some time soon! – and the surroundings of his own place. Then he wouldn't have to worry about probably disturbing anyone by going to the bathroom in the middle of the night, he could watch TV or read if he couldn't sleep, and he'd be free to wander around in his pyjamas and talk to himself or hum a song while drinking his tea – that was much better than staying in a strange house where he'd have to take other people's wishes and needs into account. He knew he was an oddball, and it didn't bother him any more. Not much, at least…

He took a final peek into the gift bag with the bottle of wine he had bought for Fidel and Juliet. Right… the little 'Thank you for the invitation' card was still attached to the bottleneck, the strikingly colourful purple-and-yellow patterned bag didn't look crumpled (although it wasn't new - he had actually 'recycled' it… when he had had the sad task to look through the belongings of his predecessor in the shack to figure out what to return to his family, he had found the bag in the depths of clobber that Charlie Hulme had collected in the bottom drawer of his cupboard… he would have bought a new one, but felt it was totally acceptable to re-use this perfectly fine bag – nobody would notice, anyway, and – given its wild colours and pattern - the bag would end up in the bin, anyway… or maybe Juliet would use it again, too…), and he had also remembered to peel off the price tag from the bottle… So, at least this part of the event would hopefully not be a disaster…

When he arrived at the Bests' house, Fidel came to greet him and give him a drink, Juliet thanked him for the wine ("Oh, thank you… you shouldn't have, Inspector… but, of course, we will think of you when we open it! And what a wonderful gift bag – I love purple! How _thoughtful_ of you to remember it!"). Juliet's father sidled up to him and asked him about the latest political developments in the UK, and Juliet's mother waved from the far end of the garden where the grill was located.

Everything was very casual, and much to his surprise, Richard felt at ease fairly quickly. He moved to the porch together with Juliet's father, and together they sat down, had a cupcake and watched Camille and Joey playing with little Rosie. They all waved to say 'hello', and Richard lifted his hand to respond to the greeting.

After a while, Joey joined the small group on the porch. Breathlessly, she plopped in the chair next to Richard and said "Wow... That little girl has some energy!" Juliet's dad laughed and said "Yes, tell me about it… After a day with her, I'm shattered! I'm already dreading tomorrow morning when she will wake up at 5.30 and make so much noise in her cot that I'll have to get up and play with her!"

Richard suppressed a grin and said "I take it that you're not a morning person then, sir…"

Juliet's father chuckled and said "Brilliant deduction, Inspector!" There was laughter from Joey, and before he could stop her, she took a bite of Richard's cupcake that was sitting on a napkin on the table. Taken aback, he looked at her reproachfully, and she laughed at him, saying candidly "Your loss, Richard… I'm literally starving, and it just looked so appetising, I couldn't resist!"

Camille and Juliet's mother watched the scene from the other side of the garden. Juliet's mother said thoughtfully "Wow, the Inspector really gets on well with your friend, doesn't he?"

"Yeah… seems like that," Camille responded automatically. She wasn't really amused…

However, the feeling didn't last – it was a beautiful day, and everybody was in a good mood. The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly. Camille came to sit on the porch for a while, she and Richard got into talking about one of their recent (solved) cases as Juliet's dad asked about something that Fidel had mentioned, Joey went off to play a little with Rosie before joining the group on the porch again. Everybody had fun. After a while, Dwayne said "Well – who wants to come swimming with me?"

The Bests lived really close to the beach, there was only a little strip of palm trees between their fence and the public beach. Except for Juliet's parents, Richard and Joey, everyone seemed to fancy the idea of a little swim, and within minutes, they all had changed into swimwear. Dwayne was the first to run to the beach, Fidel and Juliet followed, with Rosie.

"Are you sure that you don't want to come?" asked Camille. She wore a cobalt blue bikini. Richard remembered how he had arrested her about two years ago… she had worn a similar bikini, and he had found it hard to take his eyes off her back then – just as he found it difficult not to ogle her now. He smiled a little wistfully. In order to distract himself, he turned to Joey and said "She won't leave us in peace, will she?"

Joey laughed and said "No, obviously not…" Then, turning to Camille who was lingering near the porch, waiting for them to answer, she shouted "I'll come down in a sec – just to watch you for a while! Just go ahead, I'll be right there…"

She passed Richard an apologetic glance, and he said "Oh, never mind – I'll just stay put here. If you want to go, don't worry – I'll get by on my own!" She nodded and said with a grin "I figured you would! I'll go and get changed now – see you in a minute!"

A few minutes later, she returned – in a short-sleeved kneelength turquoise sundress. It was made of light T-shirt material, and it even had a dainty little collar. Apparently, she wore a one-piece swimsuit underneath. Her flip-flops were turquoise, too. She winked at Richard as he looked at her, and asked, a tad nervously "You think I can go like that? Into the water, I mean? It's so easy to get burnt - so I figured it might… er…"

Juliet's mother assured her that she'd be fine. "A lot of fair-skinned people do that, so don't worry – it's surely a much better idea than getting burnt and taking the risk of possibly developing skin cancer!"

Richard stayed where he was and kept chatting with Juliet's parents. There was no point for him in joining the gang at the beach. He still didn't like sand, and he didn't feel like watching everybody frolicking in the waves… and feeling left out… or like a stick-in-the-mud.

After a while, Juliet's mother excused herself and went to the barbecue at the other side of the garden again, and her husband followed her a few minutes later when she called out for him to come and help her. They pottered around while Richard was left to his own devices and closed his eyes. He wore shades, but the sun was really strong, and his eyes felt strained.

He must have dozed off for a moment – he woke up with a start when someone ran past him into the house, apparently upset and sobbing – not too noisily, but audibly. Perplexed, he turned around and got a glimpse of a turquoise garment – Joey's sundress.

* * *

It was late when Richard unlocked the door to his shack. Dwayne had dropped him off at the dust road close to the beach – he couldn't go to the beach with the bike and the sidecar.

Altogether, it had been a lovely day – long, but fun. And confusing in a number of ways... Richard hadn't found out what had made Joey run into the house like that – shortly afterwards she had returned to the patio; she had changed back into her regular clothes, including an impressively large sun-hat, and was apparently entirely happy and cheerful. She had sat with him again, and after a while the others had come, and Juliet's parents had started the barbecue. Fidel had helped his parents-in-law, and when they'd been in the middle of eating, Andrew had arrived after all – he had had to get his book-keeping done before he had been able to join them.

The food had been delicious – Juliet and her mother had definitely excelled themselves. There had been various salads, chutneys, side-dishes, vegetables… and the meat had been fabulous, too. Richard had felt so full that he'd figured he might not have to eat anything in a few days. Andrew – who had sat next to him – had asked in jest who'd need an English roast if they could have all this, and although Richard didn't quite agree, he hadn't objected, either…

As it had got darker (and Joey had finally taken off her sun hat!), Fidel had switched on the string of lights on the patio, and Juliet had retrieved candles. Juliet's parents had said their goodbyes and taken a very sleepy, yet reluctant little Miss Rosie with them. After they had left, Fidel had brought out a small portable CD player, and Juliet had come up with a bunch of CDs, so they had had some music in the background. Some of the music had been Caribbean dance music, but there also had been some CDs with oldies, party music and swing.

Richard had observed how Juliet had been tapping her foot to the rhythm of the music, so he hadn't been surprised when she got up at some point and asked if anybody wanted to dance… The music had got louder, and he had tried to shrink and make himself invisible in his chair. For a while, he had watched the others dancing away to the different songs – in various pairings. Dwayne had danced with Camille, Andrew had asked Juliet, and Joey had agreed to dancing with Fidel. There had been a pause when Dwayne had changed CDs, and everybody had sat down again and started talking.

He had surreptitiously glanced at his watch, put his glass to the side and made ready to get up and disappear in the house when Dwayne had suddenly shouted "Hey folks – here's a slow one… and it's ladies' choice now!"

Richard had kind of known what had been bound to happen then – and there hadn't been anywhere he could hide. Camille had come up to him, extended her hand and asked "May I?" – of course with a mischevious twinkle in her eyes. He had tried to find an excuse… but to no avail. His embarrassment had been increased by Joey's loud interjection "Oh no, Camille – you beat me here! I'll put up with Andrew for the moment, but promise me you'll dance with me next, Richard!"

Juliet had chuckled, and Fidel had encouraged him "Oh, come on, sir – it's just one short song, so…" Richard had sighed in despair, very reluctantly accepted Camille's proffered hand and got up. She had smiled at him – had it been sneering, or had she meant to encourage him? He had found it a little hard to figure out! – and put her other hand on his upper arm… not on his shoulder – which would have been the more formal – and _correct_ \- way to do it. He had noticed this with a slight frown. This had given their stance something more intimate – and it had troubled him a little. Wasn't this a little too… friendly? Not that he'd mind, but what would the others think?

Then the music had started, and as the first chords of Paul Anka's "Put your head on my shoulder" had filled the air, Richard had groaned inwardly – the scenario had reminded him of his graduation dance where he had absolved several dances with a bossy valkyrie from the girls' boarding school that his school traditionally had invited for the end-of-school-year ball. For some reason this overbearing girl had fancied him, and it had been impossible to avoid her… and she hadn't given him any chance to lead, she had make him appear like a puppet on a string…

Oh well… he had danced with Camille before – albeit briefly -, and surely, she could never be as annoying as this girl had been.

And indeed, dancing with Camille had been entirely different... and far from annoying… She had let him lead the way, she had effortlessly followed his movements, and – much to his relief - she had not made any attempt at 'spicing up' the steps, but just stuck to the standard steps that he was familiar with. Slowly, he had relaxed, and he had felt so comfortable with her that he hadn't withdrawn when she had closed the gap between their bodies by coming nearer and leaning her head on his shoulder… And he hadn't even noticed that the song had ended at some point and the Platters had taken over, singing "Only You". Neither had she, though – they had just kept dancing… All others had continued to dance, though, so maybe nobody had considered it being unusual behaviour?

When the dance had been over, he hadn't dared to look into Camille's eyes again for the rest of the evening. He had been afraid of what he'd see there. Triumphant amusement, most likely, because she had _finally_ succeeded in making him dance with her – and in making him admit – if not with words, then with his body – that he found her attractive and liked her more than he should. Though he had been very careful – so maybe there was a slim chance that she hadn't realised?

In any event, considering how she had kept provoking him and making him step out of his comfort zone ever since they had got to know each other, she surely was feeling victorious… No, he couldn't face that – so he had rather avoided her.

Later on, he had danced with Joey – because she had asked him and it would have been extremely rude to say no, plus he hadn't wanted Camille to think that she was the cat's whiskers (even if she was…) -, but that had been different again – the music had been a bit more lively, though not particularly fast, she hadn't come so close, and although it had been fun to dance with her, it had been clear that she hadn't been interested in a 'romantic' slow dance. And when Fidel had danced with Camille later, Juliet had asked Richard if he wanted to dance with her – which had been a whole different thing again as Juliet had chattered all the way about Rosie, Fidel and redecoration plans for the house.

The evening had come to an end not so long after that, and Richard had gratefully accepted Dwayne's offer to give him a lift back home…

As he sat on the veranda of his shack now, a bottle of water in his hands, he wondered how on earth he'd manage to meet Camille's eyes again on Monday. This dance had been magical, and he knew more than ever now that he would have to make a decision about this friendship – or whatever it was - and it would have to happen soon…


	9. It's Complicated

Chapter 9 – "It's Complicated"

After Andrew and Joey had left, Juliet put up her feet and heaved a big sigh. "Oh, Fidel," she said, "that was such a lot of fun… we should do that sort of thing more often…"

Fidel laughed and looked at his wife as she sat dead-tired, but happy, in one of the garden loungers. Camille came to join them, an empty glass in her hand, and said "I definitely agree – this was a really, really nice day, and I think everybody enjoyed it!"

Juliet chuckled and responded "Yes, I think you're right – even the Inspector seemed to have fun… My, Camille, I thought he'd faint when you asked him for a dance… but I think he liked it after all… he didn't even want to let go when Paul Anka had stopped singing…"

Camille felt a sudden warmth rising in her cheeks as she put her glass on the table and said, apparently dismissively "Oh, _that_ …"

She didn't want to admit that she hadn't wanted to let go, either… this dance had been magical!

Fidel raised his eyebrows and said "And then he even danced with Joey – I never thought I'd see the day he'd dance at all, and then he goes ahead and does it with several different women…"

He turned to Juliet and asked "Did you put anything into his drink, darling?"

Juliet giggled. "No, I didn't… I think he was drunk from all the attention he got, though! He was completely speechless when I asked him to dance afterwards, too! Mind you, he's a surprisingly good dancer with a remarkable feeling for rhythm – maybe not very adventurous, but that could be due to lack of practice. I must admit I wouldn't have had the courage to ask if he had been as buttoned up as he used to be until a little while ago. In all fairness, he has become better since he returned from the UK, hasn't he?"

Camille snorted and said "Oh, I don't know. I think he's as frustrating as ever… difficult, bossy and patronising whenever he can! But in any case, time for me to go home… I'll leave you two lovebirds now and drive home – unless you want me to help cleaning up, of course…"

Juliet shook her head and said "Thank you, but no – we have already taken most of the stuff inside, and what's left isn't more than we can handle, so just zoom off… It was nice to have you, and I hope we can do something similar again soon. I heard there'll be some sort of small circus or cabaret festival down on the beach near the Inspector's house on one of the next weekends – fire-eaters, magicians, that sort of thing. In a month or so, I think. Do you think that's something your friend Joey would enjoy? And her cousin, maybe, too? They're lovely people, and it would be fun to spend more time with them… We could all meet for a pic-nic before… of course someone would have to convince the Inspector that his place is ideal for that…"

Fidel gave his wife a slightly reproachful look and said "Really, Juliet – you might be able to walk all over me with your ideas, but you can't really do that with the Chief… I mean, you know how he needs his time alone. Spending one's weekends with a crowd of noisy people is not everybody's idea of a good time!"

Juliet made a dismissive gesture and said "Oh, come on, Fidel, don't be such a party pooper. If you don't want to bring it up, I'll talk to Dwayne – I'm sure he'll find a way to convince the Chief…"

Fidel shook his head in desperation. His face showed exactly what he thought: " _Women_!"

Camille just laughed and said "Well, let me know what Dwayne says. I'd be in, obviously. I can't speak for Joey or Andrew, but they seem to like having fun and going to places, so I'm sure they'd enjoy an event like that…"

With that, she took up her bag and said "I'm off now… till next time! Oh, don't bother to get up!"

She bent down to hug Juliet on her chair, then got on her toes to kiss Fidel on the cheek.

As she made her way through the garden and left the property through the small side door, Fidel looked after her, and Juliet said thoughtfully "She's in love with him, isn't she…"

Fidel nodded and said "I think so, yes. I can't tell if it's mutual, though… the Chief is so reserved and uptight… sometimes I think he's smitten with her, at other times, I'm not so sure. I'd settle for 'it's complicated', I suppose… He has become a bit softer since the case at the yoga retreat, you know… I think it really was hard for him to deal with the whole thing… Mind you, it _was_ tragic…"

Fidel only had a faint idea of what had happened between Richard and Julia, but he knew that there had been a certain connection between them, and although Richard had been his usual guarded self, the team had noticed that he had had feelings for Julia, despite the age gap between them.

Juliet nodded. She had heard about this. Not from Camille, but Fidel had made a few remarks while they had been on the case, and so had Dwayne.

Then she asked "And Joey? What about her? Do you think she fancies him?"

"No," was her husband's firm reply. "No, I don't think she does… she likes the Chief, and she trusts him to a certain extent, as far as I can see it… but there's something distant about her, something secretive… something… unforthcoming. She hasn't really told anyone much about herself, not even Camille, I think – although they spend an awful lot of time together. It's like she's… like she's here – but not _really_ here… - and she came because she _escaped_ from something, you know, and she keeps to herself – in a strange way…"

He reflected on the past few hours and said then "Did you notice how she exchanged banter with everyone, but kind of shut down when Dwayne said something? It's not that she gets mean or cold towards him, but there's a certain cautiousness in her voice when she talks to him… And when we danced – we all mingled and mixed, but she kind of avoided dancing with him?"

"Oh, now that you're mentioning it…" Juliet wrinkled her nose.

"Yes, I did notice. I think it might have to do with Dwayne being such a philanderer. It's not that he gropes women, but he openly appreciates and compliments them, and sometimes he lays it on a bit thick… and some women feel uncomfortable with that. They get put off because he thinks he's irresistible."

"Hmmm…" made Fidel pensively, "you may be right…" Then he held out his hand and said "Whatever. It's none of our business, and I for one am ready to call it a night for now."

He touched the seam of his yellow poloshirt and pulled a face. "Everything is sandy and smells of cooking fat, including myself. I really need to take a shower now…" He looked into his wife's face and said in a lower voice "Maybe you'd like to join me, Mrs Best… there's no little munchkin demanding our attention tonight…"

Juliet took his hand, got up and came right into his arms. "That sounds like a brilliant idea, Mr Best," she whispered as she kissed his neck and felt his hands moving up under her top.

* * *

Camille drove home through the darkness, humming along to the catchy tune that was playing on the radio. "Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and bury them beneath the sea…" – if only it were that simple!

Old troubles… every once in a while she felt she had gone through too many troubles already, and it wasn't really worth trying to start anything new any more.

The past didn't come to haunt her very often, but every once in a while, she thought back to her time in France and wondered if things had turned out differently if she had behaved differently.

If only she hadn't been so reckless, so self-assured, so blind, so gullible… so _stupid_ …

Of course, it was pointless to dwell on what had happened several years ago, and she knew that, but she couldn't help it – at the moment she felt quite insecure because of the experiences she had made there… the ones that had made her jump at the chance to return to the Caribbean… the ones that had made her pack up her things and vanish overnight…

She hadn't thought about it much since she had arrived back home and taken up her old life as an island girl, but lately, it had come to haunt her for whatever reason… maybe because she felt so insecure about Richard. Since his return from the UK, things had shifted between them…

She had become more aware of her somewhat complicated feelings for him, and she couldn't help it – it made her think of her past experiences with men. Some of them she'd rather bury and forget forever…

She sighed, trying to focus on the present instead of drowning in memories... But the present wasn't really much easier, either… It had been a confusing day in some respects.

She had observed Joey and Richard laughing and chatting, and she had felt a sting of jealousy once again.

Then everyone had gone to the beach – well, Richard _hadn't_ , mulish old killjoy that he was…

She had hoped he'd come down to see how good she looked in her bikini, but no such luck… Joey had come, though – but she hadn't joined them in the waves. She had just walked in up to her knees so her sundress got wet at the seams and waded around a little in the shallow water, then she had sat on a big boulder in the sand and watched them – with a somewhat wistful expression on her face.

But when Fidel had asked her if anything was the matter, she had just shaken her head and said seemingly cheerfully "Oh no, all is well – no worries" – so they had continued to play and romp about in the water. At one point, Dwayne and she had got into a mock fight, and Fidel had dived and pulled away her legs, so she had lost balance. She had fallen and screamed in excitement and a sudden thrill of fear; the waves had crashed over her. After a moment, she had come up again, laughing, spouting water, flailing about and trying to regain her balance.

When she had finally been able to open her eyes again, she had seen Joey standing on the beach, looking at the scenario with an expression of horror on her face. An instant later, she had turned around and run away, back to the house…

That had all been very strange… Camille didn't know what to think of that. Her suspicion that Joey was hiding something had surfaced again for a moment

She had dismissed the whole thing and forgotten about it later on, though – Joey had been her usual carefree, funny self again, the food had been excellent, she had had a couple of inspiring conversations with her friends and Juliet's parents, and everything had been fine…

The most surprising and magical thing this evening, however, had been the dance with Richard. She had half-expected him to turn her down once again, but obviously he had figured that there wouldn't be any way out this time. When he had danced with her so reluctantly for about a minute during Solly's wake all those months ago, she had already noticed that he had a good feeling for rhythm, and it had felt nice to be held by him - and ever since she had waited for another opportunity to dance with him.

She didn't know if Dwayne had picked this particular CD on purpose. She suspected that he and Fidel were aware of how she had this 'thing' about Richard… they had seen her suffering when he had been away in the UK a little while ago, and they had seen her beaming when he had come back.

They weren't dumb, they could certainly put 2 and 2 together…

As long as they didn't say anything, though, she figured her secret was safe – well, at least it wasn't out in the open!

But whatever, Paul Anka had been the perfect choice. At first, Richard had been a bit starchy and awkward – out of shyness, most likely - but then he had relaxed, and – oh, it had been amazing! He wasn't the world's most adventurous dancer, and she had felt instinctively that he'd stick to the standard steps, but really, that was all that she had wanted – she hadn't wished for more than being in his arms, swaying to the rhythm of the music and having a rare moment of not fighting, but being completely in sync with him.

He had held her close – and he hadn't moved away when she had come even closer as the dance went on – his hand had clasped hers, his arm had been around her… she had felt his breath on her hair, and when she had put her head on his shoulder (well, that was what the song was about, after all!), he hadn't objected, stiffened or turned away… actually, he had held her tighter! That had felt really nice! He certainly wasn't brawny or anything like that, but he was well-toned, and she had felt his muscles and sinews as they were moving together. She had remembered how surprised she had been when she had seen him the first time without his suit jacket – much to his disadvantage, his old fashioned suit jackets made him look like he had a spare tyre around his waist, but actually that wasn't the case at all. While he definitely wasn't skinny, he was well-proportioned and not in the least overweight. She had also remembered how attractive he was in his old-fashioned striped pyjamas – and then she had pushed that memory to the side and got lost in the dance…

They hadn't talked, and so she had closed her eyes and pretended not to notice that the song was over when he hadn't stopped… then again, Paul Anka's song was less than 3 minutes, nobody could blame her for trying to extend the pleasure and dance with him for another 3 minutes. And apparently, he had felt the same way… It had been magic. His grip had been firm, but not brash, the faint scent of his after shave had been subtle and somehow sophisticated… she could have danced with him like that all night…

Later on, she had danced with Fidel, Dwayne and Andrew – but not with Richard any more. Maybe it was a good thing that he hadn't asked her for another dance – she wasn't sure if she could have managed to appear indifferent to his touch. Surely, he must have noticed during their dance that she had been enchanted. Maybe, it had embarrassed him? He had avoided looking at her for the remainder of the evening, and they hadn't talked, either. Eventually, she had buried the hope that he'd finally notice tonight that she was more than his Detective Sergeant. More than a teaser or a flirter…

Why couldn't he be like other men? Why was it so hard to draw him out, to make him show affection, to make him confess that he had feelings? Couldn't he see that she wanted him to be more than just a co-worker or a friend, at best?

She sighed. Maybe she should give up on him. Maybe he was one of these emotionally unavailable types who'd keep you at arm's length forever. Maybe he had been hurt too badly in the past, and he could never trust anyone any more. Maybe it was hopeless. Maybe she should just forget about it and go back to treating him the way she had done before he had opened up a little and she had felt that he was more to her than just 'the Chief'. Maybe he wasn't worth all the trouble after all.

She had been hurt before. She didn't want to get hurt again. No matter how easy-going she appeared to be, she also knew the pain of heartache, of betrayed feelings, of loss.

Some things, you couldn't avoid.

You couldn't avoid death, and you couldn't always be sure of so-called friends not being fakes or of lovers betraying you.

But you could surely avoid falling in love with someone who wasn't good for you in the first place…


	10. Collisions

Chapter 10 - Collisions

Richard had been apprehensive about facing Camille on Monday, but she made it easy for him. She just pretended that nothing extraordinary had happened, and after a little while, they were back to their usual bickering.

By Wednesday, Richard was convinced that he had all imagined it. The way she had melted into his arms when they had danced, the soft little sigh that had escaped her when the dance had finished, the confiding way she had put her head on his shoulder – nothing of that had been true. It had just been part of her usual repertoire, he suspected now. It had been wishful thinking on his side that it could be different, obviously. He chided himself for being such a softie.

She was as stroppy and difficult as always… Actually, it was worse than ever. Oh well. At least that meant he wouldn't have to think or worry about it – there was nothing to decide, nothing to ponder – they would never have more than a work relationship, maybe they could be friends, but there was nothing beyond this. If that was what she wanted – fine. It was a good thing he had realised it before making a complete idiot of himself.

Well, it was not the first time he had misread a woman…

But whenever he had done that before, there had been a way out – he had been able to move on, to avoid the person in question, to 'forget' about the humiliation by burying it so deep that it couldn't surface again. Here, he couldn't get away – he was stuck with Camille, a transfer was out of the question at the moment, and they would have to keep working with each other…

What should he do now? He didn't want her to know how hurt he was. Well, if she could behave like nothing had happened, then maybe he could do the same thing?

He decided not to change his behaviour, and when Dwayne asked if he wanted to come to La Kaz after work, he didn't hesitate to say yes. Camille wouldn't be there until later, anyway, as it was one of her gym days, so he'd have some peace… and he might go home shortly after her arrival then. He couldn't possibly get up and leave when she arrived – that would be plain rude, and she'd make him suffer for that behaviour afterwards – but he wouldn't have to stay until late.

So, he joined Fidel and Dwayne at one of the corner tables. They had some drinks, talked a bit, and Fidel asked him something about his police training in the UK. Richard began to explain, and Fidel listened intently while Dwayne made the occasional remark – mostly along the lines that the British were way too accurate about procedure and altogether rather stuck-up, thinking nobody could do the work properly beside themselves.

Much to his surprise, Richard actually enjoyed the conversation and even learnt something new. Obviously, Fidel had been trained in the Caribbean, and some things were different here. Richard had never really thought much about those differences, and he was interested to hear Fidel's take on some of the details he had taken for granted that were handled differently over here. Fidel was an attentive listener, and his remarks showed that he had spent some time on thinking about all kinds of approaches and systems, and that he had read about various aspects of training methods, so this exchange turned out to be really interesting.

They had to talk fairly loudly because there was a lot of noise coming from one of the neighbouring tables. Catherine had come by a couple of times and admonished the group of young men sitting there, but it hadn't helped much – they got noisy again the moment Catherine turned her back on them. Obviously their idea of a good holiday included big portions of 'drinking and banging', and they already had had more than enough of the former and now were on the lookout for the latter – Richard had shuddered at some of the lewd comments and indecent innuendos that had been uttered.

He didn't think there was anything wrong with people having fun, but this was clearly very unpleasant for everybody else in the bar… He just hoped these guys would eventually leave and move on to another place – before things escalated. He had seen more than enough 'parties' like that getting out of control in his many years as a police officer, and it wasn't something he particularly liked to witness.

At around 8, Joey and Camille came back from their aerobics class. They had freshened themselves up and changed at the gym and then decided to go for a drink.

Along with a light blue headscarf that was draped around her hair – similar to the look that Catherine often wore – Joey was sporting a loose-fitting, knee-length light blue dress with a polo collar and short sleeves – Richard had observed that her shoulders were always covered, and she never wore anything sleeveless. Sure, she had very light, rosy skin, and maybe – like him - she burnt easily, but still, her attire was quite a contrast to all the other women he had seen on the island. Most of them seemed to prefer tanktops or strappy tops, like Camille. Admittedly, Camille also wore blouses with sleeves, but it was the exception rather than the rule.

Tonight, she wore denim shorts – and they were very short shorts! – and a black top with a bright floral pattern. Richard knew these shorts quite well – they (or rather the vision of the body part that they hardly covered…) had given him some unsettling dreams over the past two years already. They emphasised her long legs, and they weren't only short, they were also pretty tight, so not much was left to imagination. Her hair was mussed and looked wild now, and she was elated from the physical exercise. She looked incredibly alive, Richard mused, and intimidatingly sexy – a notion he usually tried to avoid, but it was the only suitable word here.

He decided to leave the bar fairly soon so he wouldn't end up in reveries, full of images of her and what could be if she fancied him and he were a more self-assured and confident man. Try as he might, he couldn't get rid of these fantasies – although he managed to control and ignore them most of the time. It had become more difficult since his return, though, and now that he knew what it felt like to hold her, his fantasies had got more fodder, and it was even harder to push them to the side.

The two women moved towards the table where Richard sat with his two officers. When they passed the neighbouring table with the noisy men, the jeering and bawling got louder, and a couple of suggestive remarks fell. Joey winced – she clearly felt uncomfortable. One of the guys pointed at her and made a remark about her being a doll, and another one gave a lecherous snigger and said something about her being 'well-equipped'. When Camille in her short shorts followed her, there was extensive catcalling and whistling.

She paid no heed, but one of the guys obviously felt provoked by her nonchalance and grabbed her wrist, trying to come up with a pick-up line that would impress her. An angry-faced Camille tried to pull her arm away, but to no avail – her harasser wouldn't let go.

It was then that Richard got up and flashed his police badge. "Listen, sir, you are harrassing one of my team members here, and I warn you – if you don't let her go immediately, you and your friends will spend a very inconvenient night in the cells of the local police station instead of your comfy beds in the posh resort you've booked!"

His quiet confidence stunned them into silence. However, the young man who had grabbed Camille's wrist wasn't quite convinced yet… he winked at her and made no move to release her arm. But then, Richard said "If you need any help with the word 'immediately', we've got handcuffs here – just so you know…"

That showed an instant result – the guy took away his hand as if he had been burnt. Camille rubbed the wrist with her other hand and shot the man a hostile glance. There was some shuffling, one of the others began to stutter an 'explanation' or an 'apology', two of his friends just looked down into their half-empty glasses, the next one claimed he'd go nowhere while the fifth one got up and made ready to leave. They were going to move on to another bar, anyway…

They didn't get away so easily, though - Catherine rushed by and insisted on them settling the bill rightaway.

When the whole thing was over and the group of young men had disappeared from the scene, Catherine brought them all drinks and thanked Richard for his intervention. For a moment, nobody noticed how ruffled Camille was – until she spoke up.

Instead of thanking Richard, she glowered at her mother first and then said testily "Really, Maman, that's enough – I'm sure I could have handled the situation by myself… I'm not a baby any more, you know!"

The last part of her statement was directed at Richard who was taken aback initially, but then glared at her with narrowed eyes.

While Catherine was speechless for a moment, Richard retorted brusquely "Yes, obviously, and that's why the whole thing started! I do have great confidence in your abilities as a fist-fighter, but knocking out five with one strike sounds a bit bigheaded, doesn't it, even for your standards!"

Camille glared back at him and hissed "Don't you treat me like a naughty child, sir – I could have handled them. And what do you mean, it started because I'm not a baby any more! Do you mean I should have dressed more modestly, huh!?"

She was fuming now.

"No, I don't, and you know that this is not the point," he said, trying to control his voice. She was about to say something when Catherine took her arm and said "Come on, Camille… I don't think you should discuss this here and now. Let's go and get a bite to eat for you and Joey, I'm sure you're hungry after your exercising."

Camille cooled down a bit and said "Right, Maman, thank you…" She turned around again, gave Richard a disdainful last look and then stalked away.

Fidel scratched his head, Dwayne looked down on his shoes, and Richard tried to calm down. He had only wanted to protect Joey and Camille – didn't she realise that his intervention had been based on worry, not on presumptuousness? It was hopeless – she was determined to misunderstand and assume the worst. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

Suddenly, he heard a sob from behind and turned around. Joey sat there like a picture of misery, silently crying into her handkerchief. Richard rolled his eyes in despair – oh _please_ … not another emotional scene! He glanced over to Fidel and Dwayne, but before any of them could make a move, Joey had jumped up and scurried away in direction of the restrooms.

Richard let out an exasperated sigh. This was all getting too complicated for him. Stiffly, he said to his two officers "Right. And now that I have spoilt the evening by trying to protect one of my officers and her friend from getting harrassed, I think there's nothing left for me to do. I'm off for today, thank you very much for your company…"

And with a brief nod, he left the premises. Fidel and Dwayne just watched him walk away – helplessly and unsure about how to react.

As he walked down the street, his briefcase clutched in one hand, he silently scolded himself for having accepted to stay on Saint Marie for yet another year – he should have hit the road and moved back to the UK instead of staying on this horrible, benighted island at the end of the world with its selfish, ungrateful people who only seemed to mock him and his feelings. Every time he thought it was getting better, it was actually getting worse.

Bitterness in his face, he looked down on his brogues as he walked along. He had polished them this morning, now they were dusty and dirty again. His trousers and the jacket that should be black as coal were covered in powdery dust, too. His forehead was covered in sweat. His shirt was clinging to his torso. The tie around his collar suffocated him. He was hot and bothered. This was awful.

He hated this place and everyone who lived on this island – including himself, for being such a soft-hearted idiot who couldn't just accept that the woman he liked more than anybody else that he knew in this whole wide world didn't give a damn about him. If he had had half a brain he'd have accepted the Met's offer for a position in the UK – instead he had been dumb enough to return, in the vague hope that his life would change for the better if he gave it yet another try and made an effort to get more accustomed to the lifestyle here…

And it bothered him that he hadn't been able to ignore how sexy, attractive and tempting she had looked in her rage. How could he have these feelings when she was lashing out at him like that? This was not funny. No, not at all. This was very, very irritating.

He had walked about half a mile when a car was approaching, and he jumped up on the sorry excuse of a pavement, trying not to trip over the fat cat that was comfortably lounging on the curb. Suddenly, the car stopped, and he heard a familiar voice asking "Want a lift, sir?"

It was Joey. She was driving her cousin's company car, a big SUV he had already seen before.

Richard looked at her, shaking his head. He wasn't in the mood for more problems.

"Come on," Joey said softly in an appealing undertone. Her eyes were a little puffy, but apart from that, he couldn't see any sign of agitation in her. Still, he hesitated to accept her offer. He only wanted to be alone now…

But she didn't give up.

With a little sigh, she said "I won't bite. I'm actually grateful for what you did, and I'm sorry I behaved like such a ninny. It's just that… I was scared, and when it was over, I was so relieved that I couldn't help but cry… I know you didn't interfere because you wanted to ham or grandstand. I'd like to make it up to you – and all I can do for you at this point is give you a ride… please, Richard!"

He shook his head again and said solemnly "Thank you for your offer, Joey, but I think you better go back to La Kaz now – you should have all the peace in the world there now that this gang is gone. There's nothing you have to apologise for. It's not your or Camille's fault that this happened – they were drunk, and they were looking for trouble."

Joey laughed, seemingly light-heartedly. "I'm afraid I have a bit of a complex there." Then she added more seriously "Listen, Richard… if you want to work off aggressions, then go ahead and walk home as fast as you can, so that your legs hurt and your feet burn. If you want to talk, though, or just have some quiet time with someone who understands, then hop on, and we'll go for a ride… There are more venues on Saint Marie than Catherine's bar, and I know a place where we can sit and talk, if you like… or be quiet, if you prefer that!"


	11. Helpful Advice

Chapter 11 – Helpful Advice

Back at La Kaz, Camille was still fuming. Richard had treated her like a five-year-old and then left without a word, Joey had disappeared without having eaten, Fidel had uncomfortably shifted from one foot to the other and said he'd go home before disappearing into thin air, and her mother had passed her a reproachful look when she had given Camille a plate with goat stew and rice.

Only Dwayne had stayed with her, clutching a bottle of beer, rocking his chair backward and forward, and waiting for her to calm down.

She had eaten, but in between she had stopped from time to time to go on about how impossibly Richard had just acted…

When Camille had finished her long and heartfelt tirade, Dwayne leant back and said drily "Are you done now? Just wondering… because I've had way too much already and won't listen to any more of this dead-boring nonsense. So if you want to go into more detail about what a blockhead the Chief is, just keep it to yourself, okay? And for the records, we're off duty, and I'm not looking at you as my senior officer at the moment. I'm looking at you from my position as an experienced, worldly wise gentleman, and you… you are a foolish young woman who needs to get her head set straight."

Camille looked at him in astonishment, too surprised to come up with a repartee. It didn't happen often that Dwayne spoke to her this sternly. Usually, he was good-natured and took her occasional rants stoically, or he laughed… but this time, it was different. His brows were knit together, and his eyes were dark with a feeling she couldn't quite pinpoint.

She should find out soon, though, what was bugging him.

"Look," he continued, "the Chief did only what he thought was right. He wanted to protect you and your friend. It was not that he was belittling you. You know that he knows you can fend for yourself. But it wasn't only about you, it was also about Joey, and this is your mother's bar, just in case you haven't noticed. He didn't want a riot here, he didn't want you to get and Joey hurt, and he didn't want to have to worry about your and your mother's well-being. Heaven knows you give him more than enough headaches with your stroppiness sometimes – he hasn't deserved being treated like a twit. He may be a dense fellow sometimes, and he may not always realise how much others do for him, unless it's work-related, and even _that_ can be tricky… but I'll be damned if you're not just as mulish and pig-headed as he is. He's always been patient with you, although you've sometimes been on the verge of being insubordinate, he has never let you down when you wanted to go for some sort of training – whether it made sense or not – and he has never let anybody say anything disrespectful about the team as a whole. He's a really good man, and you shouldn't treat him like crap when he stands up for you and tries to keep you out of trouble. He didn't do that to patronise you, he did that because he was concerned for you. You have over-reacted, and you should apologise to him – the sooner, the better."

That was an unusually long and serious speech for Dwayne's standards. Camille stared at him in disbelief – had he really said she should apologise?

She opened her mouth, but Dwayne said, waving his hand dismissively "Forget it. I won't listen to your nagging. Just wanted to make my point clear to you. I'm not going to argue about this. Of course, it's your business how you deal with this. But I tell you what, I have no idea where your famous female intuition and so-called empathy has gone! You've really got it all wrong. It seems like your brain vanished into thin air recently and you get into a racket these days with the Chief all the time. One thing is sure - if you think you can make him open up more and be less uptight around you by behaving like a banshee, then you are sorely mistaken. That won't work."

She sat there, entirely quiet for a moment. Then she asked lamely "What… what makes you think I want… I want him to open up?"

"Oh, come on, Camille, I'm not blind. All the little provocations, the teasing, the attempts to make him feel comfortable and draw him out of his shell, the evenings here at your mother's bar when you try to make him stay longer, the surprise party for his birthday, the despair when he left for the UK, the joy when he returned, the parading in your most stunning clothes right in front of him… you think that goes unnoticed? You know as well as I do that you care about him and try to make him react somehow. And you didn't go and feed his damn old lizard just because you _like_ that silly critter – not in a million years would you do that for anybody, and you know it… Why can't you just be a bit less maddening? We all know you're an independent, strong woman. No point in over-emphasising it. And if you are so independent and strong – why don't you just tell him you like him? I'm not saying that he'd like that – most likely he'd be scared out of his wits and run a mile - at least! - but you can't expect him to like or understand your current behaviour, either. You dance with him one day and lead him to believe he's special, and then you hit him over the head with your snappy, stroppy rebelliousness… How will he feel about that? Huh?"

She closed her eyes, deeply embarrassed. Sure, she had suspected that Dwayne and Fidel knew… but hearing it said aloud made her feel like an idiot. As long as nobody had mentioned it, she could pretend that nobody knew.

"Do you… do you think he… he's aware of my – er – oh, you know… and just… just ignoring me?" she finally asked faintly.

"No," was Dwayne's resolute answer. "He doesn't have a clue. He likes you, and maybe more than that, but he's kind of given up on women, and I don't think he understands in the least what you're trying to bring across. He's just puzzled and doesn't know what to make of it all. And I'm pretty sure that you scare him. You're beautiful. You're smart. You're always strong, always capable. You're fashionable. You're a teaser. That's enough to intimidate a lot of men… He might think you'd never look his way… And then, he's not 'easy', like other people. I mean, it's not that he doesn't have a sense of humour – he does. But in general… He's serious, he's literal, he's got principles. He's old-fashioned in a lot of ways. He's like most other men in one respect, though – he'd want to be your 'hero'… sometimes, at least, and overall, your partner – but not your puppet. That doesn't necessarily mean you have to be the infamous 'damsel in distress', but it means that you can show vulnerability. You don't have to be strong _all_ the time. You know, it's not very appealing to a man to feel that a woman is hard as steel and will not allow herself to show some weakness. If your woman is strong all the time, how can you as a man ever admit that you're scared, worried or unhappy sometimes? How can you be _human_ as a man when your counterpart is Wonder Woman?"

Dwayne glanced at her, let his words sink in and continued with a frown, "And he's not the type who'd understand 'flirting' or 'playing games'. I'm not even sure he acknowledges his own feelings. But it was clear when Aimee was murdered – he was desperate to find the killer, he wanted to support and help you, and he was more obsessed with the whole thing than he usually is – and you know he's already quite dogged when a 'normal' murder case is on the table. It was all about _you_. It was personal for him. Your tears and your pain appealed to his softer side. And you should have seen his face when you danced with him at Fidel's. It was like he was in heaven."

Camille looked at him, slightly sceptical and with arched eyebrows. He saw her disbelief, scratched his head and said, trying to explain his observations more in detail, "Let's see… Remember how he once spoke about the rain and greyness in London? The way his eyes lit up when he described the feeling of rain spraying in his face, or of fog being in the air? That's how he looked…"

"Oh…" Camille wasn't quite sure how she felt about this analogy, but given the fact that Richard loved a rainy day in London, it was maybe better than it sounded.

A little spark of hope began to gleam in her eyes as she asked hesitantly "So, you think… you think I've got a chance with him?"

Dwayne raised his eyebrows. This situation was ridiculous - a beautiful, clever woman like Camille was sitting here, asking him with a small voice if he thought she had a chance with a stuffed shirt like the Chief – that just wasn't right.

He let out an exasperated sigh and said "Camille, I have no idea what your problem is. Obviously, I cannot speak for him – we never talk about that sort of thing, he's not the type who'd talk about anything personal, and you know that. But given how he sometimes looks at you, how he often goes out of his way to please you or to accommodate your wishes when it comes to the rota and everything, I'm fairly sure he cares for you – more than he knows, and surely more than he wishes… But he may be afraid of this all. He may think you're just trying to flirt and play games. He might be afraid that you just want to solve the puzzle – and drop him again then. The thing with him is – he's the all or nothing type. So if you want this to go anywhere, you must be absolutely sure of yourself. You can't just play with him. He's not easy-going like me – if he decides to go for something, he'll go all the way, and I mean ALL the way, with a serious relationship, a commitment and maybe even a ring on your finger – unless the two of you muck it all up before you get to that point, of course… which wouldn't surprise me, either. You and your constant bickering can drive even a saint to distraction…"

Camille pulled out her phone and checked the time. It was half past nine. "Do you think it's too late to go and see him?" she asked anxiously. Dwayne said "You want him to accept your apology, don't you?"

She nodded solemnly.

"Well, then I think you shouldn't go now. He usually goes to bed early, and he won't be too impressed if you keep him from his routines. You could send him a text, of course – as some kind of hint that you're sorry… but I'd think it's best if you also talk to him to sort it out tomorrow after work. Or if you want, Fidel and I can go for a market patrol around lunch, and you can sort it out then… These things are best done face-to-face."

She nodded hesitantly. "You may be right," she conceded. "I'll send him a message, maybe an e-mail… and we'll take it from there."

She looked at Dwayne and said – with a small, but sincerely grateful voice - "Thank you, Dwayne. You know, this is embarrassing, but it's good that you spoke up. I've… I've been so unsure about this all because he never… he never says or does anything to show how he feels, and it's been so hard going to work everyday or seeing him here, wondering and… oh well. Thank you."

Dwayne nodded and said a little gruffly "It's okay, Camille. But remember – it's all or nothing. He won't settle for anything in between. Just like I won't settle for anything permanent – that's a personality thing, you know!"

With that, he gave her a brief nod once more, got up and left – not without winking at the two beautiful ladies sitting at a neighbouring table. Camille laughed – this was Dwayne. He spoke frankly, and he never pretended to be someone he wasn't. It was refreshing to deal with someone like him…

She returned her plate to Catherine and said "I'm sorry, Maman. I shouldn't have acted that way. I was… I was furious for no good reason, but I think I'll go home and sleep now before I can cause any other mischief!"

Catherine laughed understandingly, patted her daughter's arm and let her go. As Camille made her way through the bar, greeting a customer here and there, Catherine's eyes followed her…

She was a good girl. A little random, a little stubborn, a little crazy – but she was proud of her. She hoped Camille would find happiness and inner balance eventually… she had been too restless lately… Since Aimee's death, she hadn't been the same.

Maybe that electrician – Andrew – could help taking her mind off whatever was bugging her. Although Catherine had to admit that Camille didn't seem too keen on him. She liked him in a superficial way, but there were no sparks between those two.

She sighed. She had noticed that there were sparks between Camille and her boss… the 'meaningful' kind of sparks… but she wasn't sure if that was what she wanted for her daughter. Richard really was a good man, but he seemed to repress his emotions a fair bit, and it was hard to figure out if Camille could really deal with this kind of behaviour in the long run. Regardless of their work situation – which made it all the more complicated… It would become cumbersome to try and draw him out, make him loosen up and relax more… and Camille might get tired of all this and let him go out of frustration.

That would break his heart – Catherine knew that Richard was somewhat self-centred, but he also was much more sensitive than he wanted to let on – and a fall-out or even break-up would also hurt Camille. So, she wasn't quite sure if she wanted Camille to fall for Richard.

When she had reached that point in her thoughts, she sighed again, realising that she couldn't do much about all this, anyway. Camille was old enough to run her own life, and she would do whatever she thought was right, anyway… And she had gone through heartache and pain before, she knew the risk…

Catherine had never found out what exactly had happened that had made Camille return to the Caribbean, but she knew it hadn't only been homesickness or the professional challenge. Compared to her life in France, things were really low-key over here, and Catherine knew that Camille sometimes felt life on the island was a bit claustrophobic.

So… she surely must have had very good reasons for her return. She had never mentioned anything, though, and Catherine hadn't asked, either. She had figured her daughter would tell her if she felt the need to confide in her… So, time had gone by, and now, after over two years, Catherine still wasn't sure what had brought Camille back to her doorstep. But she was happy to have her here, and she didn't ask…

Camille would have to tell her off her own bat, there was no point in pushing her.


	12. Calming Down

Chapter 12 – Calming Down

Meanwhile, Richard was trying to get comfortable on a dingy old plastic chair. He felt like he was sitting on an eggslicer. Catherine's bar was perhaps not the poshest place in town, but at least you could sit there without having your backside tortured by an old busted piece of plastic.

Joey watched him shuffling around in his seat and smiled. "It's not the Ledbury, I know…" she said apologetically, wiping her fingers with a paper napkin, "but the fish and chips are marvellous here, aren't they?" She reached over to another chair and retrieved a tatty (but apparently clean) cushion for him that he gratefully accepted.

Ah… this was much better!

They were sitting under a tin roof, at a raddled table in a rather run-down place overgrown with bright pink bougainvillea. It was located on a cliff looking down on some greenery, in the distance you could see the waves of the ocean crashing on to some big rocks. It was hardly more than tiny open shed, attached to a small food stand, several miles away from Honoré. Since Saint Marie was a small island, they hadn't really driven far – but many of the roads were narrow and somewhat curvy, so it took time to get from one place to the other.

Richard knew the stand, but he had only seen it closed as he had never been here in the evening. He had actually thought it was abandoned.

He had to agree that the fish and chips had been the best he had eaten in a while – since his return from the UK, actually. He had never been into regular street food, but obviously fish and chips were something entirely different… you had to eat them from a food stall or in a drafty old shed, and it had to be smelling of old fat and you had to be freezing from the cold salty air.

Well, it was an old shed, and it smelled of old fat – he could tolerate the absence of cold salty air… although it didn't feel right to be so hot and bothered. However, he felt much calmer already.

It wasn't a particularly busy place, and he wondered how the owner got by, but Joey just laughed when he made a remark. "Oh, it's more a hobby than a source of income for him, I think. David – that's his name – doesn't keep it open all the time. Mariah, his girlfriend, owns a surfing school in Honoré, and that's how they actually make a living. David certainly knows this place isn't particularly lucrative, but he keeps it up until he can find a better place closer to Honoré. I think it's only open on four evenings a week, Tuesday to Friday, or something like that, and if he's busy with other things, he won't open, so… you never know whether or not you'll get something to eat when you go here."

"You come here often?" Richard asked, less out of interest than because he felt he had to say something. She shrugged and said "Not any more, no. But I used to come here regularly during the first weeks after my arrival. Needed a little piece of home, you know. David's tea is no good, but the fish and chips are. You know they usually make cod differently here in the Caribbean, and I just couldn't get used to that. It was just one little thing… but it drove me up the walls how they use all those spices and what-not. Not to mention that my stomach acts up when I eat radically spicy stuff… Sorry, I know – too much information."

She giggled and went on "So, Andrew recommended the place when he realised I _really_ missed home. Wasn't hard to notice, honestly… I kept moaning about it!"

So, apparently, he wasn't the only one who missed his home soil every once in a while. He wished he had been aware of this place during his first year here on Saint Marie – maybe he would have found it a little easier to adjust if he had known he could have a plateful of decent fish and chips some time if the craving got too bad…

But then again, maybe not. Maybe it would have made it all the more difficult. He wasn't sure.

He realised that Joey had just said she had kept moaning about all the differences between the UK and the Caribbean. Why had she come here in the first place then? He hadn't come here voluntarily, and everyone knew that, but it seemed odd that she'd move here when she obviously wasn't really too keen on the climate, the food and everything else…

He didn't want to ask, though. It was none of his business, and if she wanted him to know, she'd tell him some time.

Joey was good company. She felt he wasn't in a chatty mood, and apparently she wasn't, either, so they just sat there, looking out on what was left to see of the ocean in the distance. It was dark, except for the ominous lighting of the food stand. A few people had come and gone, but now, they were the only customers, and eventually, Joey asked "Want to go home now?"

He nodded. On the way to his shack, Joey said – seemingly incidentally - "Listen, Richard… I've got a bit of a problem that I need help with. Is there any chance you'd be willing to lend me your ear? I know you're not keen on sticking your nose into stuff that's none of your business, and that's exactly why I'm turning to you. I don't need a host of well-meant advice that comes from people who cannot relate to my situation and aren't able to think outside the box…"

"What makes you think I do?" he asked, a little curiously – and somewhat flattered that someone would see him that way. All he ever got to hear was that he was doing things by the book, and people said that as if it was a bad thing. But of course, being a good DI – and he knew he was good! - meant he had to take all sorts of things into consideration and allow for all possibilities. Maybe Joey was referring to that…

"Oh, I've been watching you," she said casually. And then, after a pause, she added "And Camille described how you solved some of your cases together. That makes me conclude that you're a sensible man who can keep a secret and who can give me some valuable insights on… on how to deal with what bothers me." She gave him a sideways glance. "Believe me, I wouldn't address to you if I knew of another way to handle the situation. I'm not used to asking for help, but I'm in a bit of a pickle and am afraid I need someone to give me directions – or at least some idea of whether or not I have a point with how I see things…"

Richard didn't say anything for a while. He wasn't keen on hearing any personal confessions – usually, when people were in a pinch, they felt inclined to say all sorts of things that had better been left unsaid, and he knew the overwhelming feeling of regret that could come after having said something that couldn't be taken back…

Joey noticed his reluctance. She sighed and remarked "Oh well. If not, that's okay. I guess I'll have to live with it and sort it out myself…"

She sounded genuinely disappointed. She was quiet for a moment and then continued "Would you change your mind if I told you that it's got to do with Camille? And that it would perhaps make things easier for her if you knew?"

He shot her a curious sideways glance before responding, feigning complete disinterest, but failing to sound as aloof as he would have liked to, "Why would that make me change my mind?"

She raised her eyebrows and said enigmatically "Oh, I don't know. It's just a feeling that I have…"

He snorted.

"So, yes or no?" she insisted.

Oh, what the heck… if it was something important that would affect or even hurt Camille, then he could perhaps help her, and yes, he actually did want to know about it. Although he couldn't figure out where the point was – she had made it very clear that he meant nothing to her… Unfortunately, that didn't stop him from having feelings for her – he was only too aware of them… and he didn't want her to get hurt.

So, after a pause that seemed like an eternity, he said gruffly "Right. If you want to talk, okay. But not now. I'm too tired and somewhat… er… worn out, and I couldn't do your dilemma or whatever it is any justice, so maybe you'd better come round on the weekend. What about Saturday afternoon? I have housework to do in the morning, but…"

He noticed her surprised glance and raised his eyebrows, asking a little stand-offish "What? Don't men have to do housework in your world? It might surprise you, but this fancy post here didn't come with a butler, a maid or a self-cleaning house, so someone's got to do it…"

Joey laughed and said apologetically "I'm sorry. It's just… I thought you might have a cleaner, but then again, why would you? You're such a stickler, nobody would do it right in your eyes, anyway, not to mention that you'd hate having people rummage and poke around in your place… You're not like Andrew who doesn't care if a complete stranger finds his underpants and stinky socks under the sofa – he figures that he pays them, so they have to suck it up. He doesn't mind, either, if said underpants and socks aren't folded in a particular way once they are clean again, so that's no issue for him – while I imagine you can be rather peculiar about that sort of thing!"

Richard blushed in the darkness. He wasn't going to discuss his underpants with her, but she had a point…

"You got me there," he admitted. "Plus I think there's something strangely meditative and satisfying about some chores – you can get the most enlightening inspirations when doing the dishes, and I've had some epiphanies regarding cases while cleaning my bathroom. At other times, housework is good for switching off. It can go either way - your mind can get busy while you do something useful with your hands, and at other times, focusing on the mundane manual task you're doing keeps your mind totally blank. But getting back to the point… if you came round at, say, four-ish, that would be okay with me. With some luck, it'll be a quiet weekend, anyway, but Saturday afternoons usually are fairly uneventful, in any case… I haven't been called out more than maybe five times over the past two years on weekends, so…"

"You're on call?" Joey asked, surprise in her voice. "No, not technically so," he said. "But if there's anything the officer on call here in Honoré needs help with, it's better to show up. This weekend it's Fidel's turn, and in two weeks time, it's Dwayne's. They get time off to compensate for weekend shifts, of course."

"Ah. So who was on call last weekend while we all were at Fidel's?" Joey asked curiously. "Oh, we share weekend duties with a station at the other side of the island," Richard explained. "You didn't think the Commissioner gets paid a full salary for just watching over one single police station, did you? The one here in Honoré is the main station of the island, and it's the only one staffed with a Met officer. The place at the other side of the island that I mentioned is smaller, they have two officers – no senior officers, though – and they report directly to the Commissioner. They deal with all the petty stuff in their part of the island, and we get to solve all major cases on the island, plus, of course, murders and other capital offences. One of the other small islands off-shore has a one-man-police-station… He's close to retirement, though, and I'm not sure he'll get replaced once he's done with his service. Anyway… Once a year, the Commissioner organises a get-together in the Government House, so I do know the other officers from those events, but other than that, I have nothing to do with them…"

Joey nodded. "Interesting. Thanks for explaining – I had no idea. I mean, Camille mentioned a few things, but I guess I just never thought to ask about details."

He shrugged. "Why would you? Most of us aren't particularly interested in how something is organised as long as we aren't directly concerned. – So, Saturday at around four? You can drop me off at the next junction, over there. My house is down at the beach, right at the end of the dirt road."

She stopped and waited until he had unbuckled the seat belt and opened the door. Then she turned to him and said "I'll be there on Saturday. Thanks, Richard – I appreciate that. Oh, and don't forget your briefcase and your jacket!"

"Never," he said with a crooked smile. "They're basically sessile, didn't you know that? Good night, Joey, and – er – thanks for… er…"

"Oh, go away, " she laughed. "It was entirely for selfish reasons that I took you there! See you on the weekend, if we don't bump into one another before then!"

Richard just nodded and shut the door so she could drive off…

He watched her drive away, crossed the street and walked down to his house. He wondered for a moment what it could be that Joey wanted to talk about. She had appeared rather pensive and worried when she had mentioned that she had a 'problem'… However, she had also seemed determined, and he figured that he had listened to so many life stories already during his career – it wouldn't make much of a difference to listen to yet another one.

And clearly, he had bitten the bait that Joey had thrown his way… Camille's well-being… For a moment he tried to convince himself that he just wanted her to be balanced and happy because it would be easier to work with her, but then he shook his head in self-contempt – wasn't it a bit stupid to try and fool himself? He knew only too well that he had clearly unprofessional feelings for her…

His mind wandered back to the events at La Kaz. Honestly, he had no idea what he had done wrong and why Camille had been so upset with him. Why was everything so complicated? Why couldn't she just be a bit more soft and gentle, why did she have to be so stroppy, wilful and obstinate? Why did she have to prove constantly that she was independent and strong? He knew _that_ already… He had thought that – while they still had the occasional difference in opinion and argued every once in a while - they had left the stage of constant battling behind long ago… but obviously, he had been mistaken…

Then again… He couldn't stop thinking of how he had felt during the dance they had shared last weekend… The way she had let him hold her had surprised him – he had expected her to be less inclined to let him lead the way. And she had not objected to him pulling her closer – actually it had felt like her arm around his shoulder had tightened a little, like she was moving closer towards him voluntarily, not because he had instigated it… It had felt like she actually wanted it that way, too, and was comfortable with him… The word 'attracted' flashed up for a moment, but he dismissed this – if she was attracted to him, she had a weird way of bringing it across, really…

Oh well, it was useless to keep pondering the same thing over and over. He'd better make himself a cup of tea and go to bed afterwards. He was tired.


	13. Peace

Chapter 13 – Peace

Richard sighed as he unlocked the door to his shack. Two more days till the weekend arrived – he hoped the incident at La Kaz tonight wouldn't poison the atmosphere at the station. Dwayne and Fidel had clearly been uncomfortable with Camille's behaviour, and he only knew too well that their usual coping strategy for tense situations between him and his DS was going for extensive patrols over the market and the harbour… The past few days had been difficult enough, and Richard wasn't keen on two more days like that…

As he went to the bathroom to wash his hands, 'his' lizard Harry – who didn't really _belong_ to him… they were housemates, at best! - skittered across the kitchen floor, giving him a disdainful look. It resembled Camille's scornful glance from earlier on, and Richard sighed again. Maybe he really should have stayed in the UK after all. Maybe it wasn't too late to change his mind and ask HR for a re-transfer…

His thoughts went back to the day when he had stood at the beach and looked at his wishing tower… he had known it had been silly, irrational and completely stupid, but still… he hadn't been able to resist the idea that if he just built a little tower of pebbles with his own hands, closed his eyes and made a wish… it would come true. He had been sentimental, emotionally fragile at that time… it had been hard to get Julia Higgins and her fate out of his head, and in an attempt to compensate for the negative thoughts he had had about her for a while, he had figured that if he did something that she had believed in and it worked out, it would be a sign from her that she had forgiven him – although she had never known of his negative thoughts… It had all been very illogical, and he had known he was behaving like a complete moron.

Well, the wishing tower had crashed, anyway…

He had never talked about it to anyone, and his wish – for a _life companion_ – had remained his secret, too. It had been foolish, anyway. It still was his biggest wish – but its fulfilment hadn't become any more likely with time…

And he still was lonely.

Needless to say, he had hidden this all somewhere in a tiny drawer in the back of his mind, hoping it would never come up again, but unfortunately, it had turned out to be a bit of a jack-in-the-box… Whenever he touched the handle of the little drawer in his head – hesitantly, hoping it wouldn't hurt _this_ time – the drawer sprang open, and out popped this memory. And it was the same thing tonight… What a dunce he was… but it was hard to forget what had happened.

A young woman, young enough to be his daughter, come to think about it, had walked along the beach with him, told him he was 'very lovely', had wanted to go skinny-dipping with him – and had even kissed him…

For the first time in many, many years, a woman had not laughed at him when he had asked her to go out for a drink with him… and then, shortly afterwards, she had been gone. He had felt incredibly guilty for not having understood that the circumstances of the case they had been working on had been so connected to Julia's further destiny. He hadn't been able to protect her… and he had even thought she had manipulated everyone, including himself…

He and his incredible 'gift' for misreading people, for being unable to seize the moment and enjoy life, for putting his foot in… Oh, he was a loser. And tonight he had tried to protect the woman he was… right, whatever _he_ was, _she_ obviously wasn't… but anyway… he had tried to protect Camille, and she had misunderstood him and made him look like a patronising, chauvinist old fossil who had no confidence in her.

The miserable thoughts and feelings were so dominant tonight… He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep if he allowed his brain to go round in circles like this.

So, against his habits, Richard decided to go online for a few minutes before retiring to bed. He really needed distraction, but wasn't keen on the babbling and gabbling that the TV would provide, so he switched on his laptop and waited for it to boot while he was brewing himself a mug of tea.

He remembered his father had sent him an e-mail a few days ago that he hadn't responded to as of yet, so he figured he might as well do so now. As he opened his client, he was already beginning to formulate a reply in his head. Much to his surprise, he saw that he had a new message waiting for him… and it was from Camille.

He groaned. She wouldn't write him anything openly offensive, he knew that – she was too 'professional' and clever for that. But maybe it would be something passive-aggressive, something slightly reproachful, something sarcastic…

That would perhaps not be the ideal kind of 'night reading'…

For a moment, he hesitated to open it, then he mumbled "Oh, what the hell…" and double-clicked on it.

" _Hello Richard,"_ [it read] _– "sorry to disturb you in your monastic cell… I didn't want to call you as I wasn't sure you'd talk to me after how I acted tonight... But I wanted to let you know that I'm aware that I shouldn't have behaved like that. I know you meant well, and I appreciate it. It's just that I'm so used to being independent and fending for myself… it's a bit of an adjustment to have someone advocating for me, and I misunderstood your reasons. I understand better now, and I'm thankful for what you did. I shouldn't have blown up at you – it was out of proportion. So… Thank you, and I mean it! - I really hope you'll read this message before the morning… In any case… See you then, bright and early, as usual! - Cheers, Camille"_

Wow. That was a surprise. Richard was baffled. She hadn't directly said that she was sorry… but Richard knew that this was what her message implied. Just like him, she had a hard time admitting it when she was in the wrong – and he knew that it hadn't been easy for her to write this e-mail. It was as close to an apology as possible – and he was well aware that if he waited for a more express one, he'd wait until doomsday.

He sat there, scratching his head. Then he grinned. Well, that changed the situation, didn't it. He had been sure she'd be sulky with him for who-knew-how-long, and he had been prepared for a couple of nasty days at the station, but it seemed that something (or someone?) had made her realise he hadn't been patronising, but protective. Now that this was out of the way, they could perhaps get back to their old behaviour patterns… to what they had been like before they had danced that night.

Although he didn't know exactly why, that had been a turning point – and things had gone downhill from there. Maybe she had felt embarrassed by the whole thing… But why had she initiated it then in the first place? He was entirely clueless. In any case, the tension of the past few days had been awful, and he wanted things to ease up between them again. And then, maybe after a while… oh well, who knew!

Her e-mail was the first step, and he knew that now it was his turn…

He pulled up the laptop and began to type a reply… After he had finished typing, he read through it once more, nodded approvingly and hit 'send'.

Then he clicked on his dad's message, typed a reply and sent that off into the ether, too. He went back to Camille's message, read it again, shook his head in amazement once more and then shut down his laptop so he could get ready for bed.

Miracles did happen after all… and he had almost forgotten about his earlier musings regarding a re-transfer to the UK…

* * *

At the other end of Honoré, Camille got ready for bed. Dwayne's words about Richard kept echoing in her head: "The thing with him is – he's the all or nothing type."

Maybe he was right. Although you never knew… That 'all or nothing' was precisely what attracted her – but it scared her, too. Initially, she had only acted on a whim when she had tried to draw him out. She had been curious. His behaviour had provoked her, she hadn't understood, and she had wanted him to change. Little by little, she had 'got' him better, though – and her heart had gone out to him. She had realised that he was hiding behind his suit and tie – it was his uniform. He fulfilled a task, a function, he didn't act as the person Richard Poole - as long as he wore this uniform, he played his role.

Sadly, he had taken to never getting rid of his uniform… so the man, the person Richard Poole had remained a mystery…

Only very, very occasionally, he had given her a chance to get a glimpse into his personality – beyond the obvious – the touchiness, the irritability, the accuracy that bordered obsession… those all were part of his personality, of course, but there was more. The slightly wistful way he had looked at her when she had accidentally thought he was her blind date, the way he had tried to comfort her when Aimee had been killed, the vulnerability he had shown when they had been stranded in the weather station shortly before he had gone back to the UK…

In hindsight, she had realised that these tiny little moves had been huge steps for him. He didn't want anybody to know him. And the more he had resisted, the more she had tried to push him. She hadn't understood that he had already given her as much as he possibly could at this point – his friendship, undemonstrative and reliable, like himself.

She recalled the thoughts and feelings she had entertained last weekend – the magic of the dance… and how she had hoped he'd be a bit more forthcoming and relaxed then – and instead he had clammed up. She had been at the end of her tether after that – and she still wasn't entirely sure if he was worth all the efforts she was making.

They were caught in a cycle of strange behaviour patterns, and she wondered if there was any way to get out of this. And if there was a way out – where would it lead them? Was she ready for a permanent relationship? Was he ready? Was he interested at all? Was she interested? In a way, she was… but then again, she was afraid. Could she be sure he'd never ever betray her? Could she be sure he wouldn't let her down? Could she be sure that he wouldn't disappear? Did she want to bother?

She was aware of how silly it was to ask questions like that. There were no guarantees in life… Never before had she felt this insecure about a man and a possible relationship with him. She had always embraced life, thrown herself at it to see what would be next, and despite the disappointments that she had gone through – she had always got up again and moved forward. Her return to the Caribbean had enabled her to go back and reconnect with her old self – the person she had been before France, before her training, before her undercover work… and it had done her good to do that. She had needed to do that – it had helped her to recover from the last few months in France…

But now, she felt unsettled again, and she realised she couldn't escape the past. She couldn't just shake off negative experiences and take them as 'lessons', as the popular self-help books suggested. She had been burnt, and she had learnt, but it had certainly influenced her thinking and behaviour patterns.

She sighed as she took her empty glass to the kitchen sink. Her laptop still sat on the countertop where she had left it a while ago… She had agonised over what to write him in her e-mail… and waited anxiously for his reply. When she had last checked ten minutes ago, he hadn't responded yet. Maybe he was more upset than she had thought? Why had she blown up like that at all?

She wanted to close the laptop, but then figured it wouldn't hurt to check one last time – although there wasn't really much hope...

But – dang! – there was a message! Closing her eyes for a moment, she drew in a breath – and then she opened it…

It read

" _Hello Camille, thank you for your message. It was a nice surprise to hear from you, and I'm glad you wrote. I think you know that I didn't want to patronise you – I wouldn't be brave enough to try and tell you what to do. It takes more courage than I could ever muster up to do that… I just didn't want to take the risk that the situation might escalate, and it seemed to make sense to step in before things heated up and got really ugly. That certainly doesn't mean I doubted your abilities to fend for yourself. You're_ _very_ _capable to look after yourself, and I pity everyone who gets fooled by your alleged fragility and doesn't realise you're way fitter than them and could easily take them in a fistfight_ _Sleep well, and I'll see you tomorrow… bright and early! – Richard"_

She smiled. This wasn't a particularly exuberant reply, but it was a reply, and he had taken the time to explain himself. She noticed he hadn't apologised, though – and it made her frown for an instant. Then she recalled how hard she had tried not to use the words "sorry" or "apology" in her message to him – she couldn't admit openly that she might have been in the wrong… and obviously, he felt the same way about his behaviour… Dwayne had a point. They both were stubborn…

She had a closer look at his message once more and noticed the words 'capable' and 'alleged fragility', along with 'fit' and 'fistfight'. Did he think others were deceived by her looks? Of course, he was right – and in fact, she had taken advantage of that more than once in her life… It had been one of her biggest assets during her undercover work that people tended to underestimate her because she was the slender type and only of average height. She knew she looked fit and toned, but not many people really had an idea of her actual physical strength.

Of course, she was slim, and people didn't associate that with strength… She felt that she had curves all in the right places, and she was aware of all the acknowledging glances she got from men – and from women – because of her looks. And although he had never given her any hint that he found her attractive (except for once…), she thought he was well aware of her appearance…

During their dance, she had thought that she'd felt how his hands had roamed over her figure for a moment – just very lightly, randomly, furtively… and it hadn't been unwelcome. If it had bothered her, she would have found a way to stop him. It had been hardly noticeable, so maybe she was over-interpreting it, anyway. Come to think about it, he would never have allowed himself doing anything that could be classified as 'harrassing' – he wasn't a sleazebag who customarily molested women…

'Maybe you scare him', Dwayne had said… and 'he has given up on women'. Camille sighed. It was silly. They had worked together for over two years, little by little she had fallen for this man, and she had no clue whatsoever if he fancied her – or not. All her musings about whether or not she was interested in a relationship with him were for nothing – as she had no idea how he felt about her… He remained mysterious and puzzling to her.

She sighed once again and decided to call it a night for now. She was glad that she had e-mailed Richard – and that he had responded. Maybe they had hit the reset button with that, and they could leave the tension of the past few days behind. It was a shame that something so wonderful and enchanting like the dance they had shared had brought about such an unpleasant aftermath…


	14. Reconciling and Making Plans

Chapter 14 – Reconciling and Making Plans

The next morning didn't start so well for Richard – he woke up before 6 to the crowing of a rooster sitting on the balustrade of his shack. That was after he had fallen asleep again after the frogs had started croaking at around 4 in the morning. He bit the inside of his cheek when he brushed his teeth, and his toaster decided to act up and burn the bread. He sighed when he removed what looked like a piece of lignite and threw it into the bin – where it immediately fell apart into a million of little black crumbs.

He'd have to get a new toaster some time. Well, given the fact that he had actually 'inherited' this one from Charlie Hulme, his predecessor, who had most likely taken it over from someone else, too, he was lucky that it had survived for so long. It clearly was rather old already, and it wouldn't hurt to replace it.

As he checked on his tea, put another slice of bread into the toaster, fried an egg and sat down to have his breakfast, he sighed again. Then he went to take his shower, fully knowing that the feeling of being refreshed would be gone the minute he had toweled himself.

Getting dressed was yet another struggle. A longing glance went in direction of the wicker chair where the light grey trackpants and the blue V-neck T-shirt lay, neatly folded… Too bad that he couldn't possibly work from home and wear casual clothes like that all the time. Now… he knew that everyone but himself thought wearing a formal suit in this kind of climate was ridiculous. But you had to have at least some standards…

When he put on his jacket and picked up his briefcase, he sighed once more…

"Things can only get better," he muttered to himself when he locked the door to his shack.

And they did get better…

He arrived at the station quite a bit earlier than usual, so neither Fidel – who very often was first – nor anybody else was there yet. So he enjoyed a rare moment of solitary silence on the station's veranda bench… he didn't usually get the chance to sit there in peace. During his lunch hour, he often just stayed at his desk, munched a sandwich, did some reading or replied to e-mails, or he went out to get some basic shopping done. During work hours, there rarely was time for sitting out on the bench… he recalled how he had sat here, holding out his arms and legs to the sun in order to find out whether or not the sunscreen that Douglas Anderson's wife had used had been manipulated. In hindsight, that seemed ridiculous – but it had been an important part of the investigations at the time.

He also remembered how he had sat there, Camille by his side, and he had grimly told her about Anderson's bullying, how he had been 'the fool in the corner'… She had come up with a baffling list of what he apparently was in her eyes… - among others, he seemed to recall the words 'childish' and 'pedantic', but wasn't entirely sure if he was maybe mixing this up with another tirade – and then had added totally unexpectedly 'but you've never been a fool'… that had been funny. And re-assuring. She had made him feel better immediately. And of course, it had been particularly satisfying to prove that Doug Anderson had indeed at least one skeleton in his closet and deserved to be jailed…

Good grief, how he had hated that man. Hate was a strong word, but Anderson had stood for everything he despised, everything he had suffered in his work life, everything he wanted to leave behind.

This case had been a confrontation with his past – and although he had loathed having to deal with Doug Anderson, his smug vileness, his condescension, it had also had an unexpectedly cathartic effect on him. He had realised that he had more or less always run away from his issues… he had tried to stay under the radar basically all his life, and he had developed strategies to avoid getting bullied… but he had never really had the chance to live and breathe without fear or at least apprehension. He had been so used to it that he hadn't even realised – he had thought it was normal.

He hadn't been free.

But after he had convicted Doug Anderson, he had felt different about a lot of things. Now he understood that it had strengthened the ties to his team. Just like he had helped Camille when Aimee had been killed and she had been so full of rage that she had wanted to arrest literally everyone who could remotely have a motive, she had helped him then so he didn't get too obsessed with Anderson being the murderer – and that had made him step back and look at things differently.

This case had brought them closer together, as he knew now. His second year on Saint Marie had been full of small things that had made him less inclined to keep up his fences. Although he had said it would be mawkish to claim that Fidel, Dwayne and Camille were his friends, even he hadn't been able to deny it - little by little, they had all grown together – and particularly Camille had become closer to him than he had ever thought possible.

She was an amazing partner, despite all her inconsistencies, moods and quirks. Or perhaps because of all that?

As he sat there on the bench, he realised once again how lucky he had been that he had got transferred to Saint Marie. Of course, that meant minus the sand, the weird creepy crawly critters and the heat.

But professionally, he had never been in a better place, and as far as his private life was concerned… he had adjusted, more or less, by now. It wasn't ideal – far from that - but then again, what was ideal, after all… He had always been good at his job, but his abilities and talents had never been valued the way they were acknowledged here.

The question was: would he want to stay here after his extra year? Would he ever find the nerve to come to terms with what he felt for Camille and what he wanted from her? And if he did – what would he do about it? He didn't have a great track record of successful relationships, after all. He had no idea of how to approach women – they were arcane, mysterious creatures with strange ways of thinking and acting! He'd never found it easy to talk to women, and their reactions often puzzled him. Camille certainly was no exception – actually, she was possibly worse than any other woman he had met before. Of course, she was French, so that explained it to a certain extent – there were cultural differences that made it all the more difficult…

Well, at least she had e-mailed him last night, so maybe their friendship – or whtever it was – had a chance, after all…

So far, only a few weeks had gone by after his return. Time would tell… A lot depended on how things would develop. It was impossible to predict the future, obviously, so all he could do was wait and see.

* * *

As Camille approached the station, she saw a slight figure sitting out on the veranda bench. She squinted and recognised Richard – he had taken off his jacket and just sat there. She waved to greet him, but he didn't react – and she realised that he maybe had his eyes closed. How young and peaceful he looked… His face was relaxed now. He often was so tense and uptight – she sometimes wondered if he had always been that way, and if not, what had made him become such a stick-in-the-mud…

Once again, she speculated about his past and what had happened to him that he had become so cautious, so reserved, so misanthropic – so _lonely_ , basically. She didn't really know much about him as he had only occasionally talked about how his life had been before he had been transferred to Saint Marie. It was funny – she knew a lot of little details, but she couldn't really get the full picture.

Well, maybe these little details were enough, after all, and she didn't really need the full picture. She had an idea of the difficulties he must have had at school and later on – he had never been a very outgoing person, and his love for detail and a certain doggedness surely hadn't made it any easier for him. He hated sloppiness, and considering how many people were keen on taking the easy way and brushing over details that could be important, he surely must have rubbed people the wrong way frequently. But it was his accuracy that was indispensable for his work, along with his perseverance – the combination of these two enabled him to solve seemingly hopeless cases.

Camille remembered how she had had to read Jane Austen's 'Persuasion' for her school exams, and how her teacher had mentioned Austen had said of herself that she worked with 'so fine a brush, as produces little effect after much labour' – or something like that... Clearly, this was how Richard worked, too. He wasn't one for broad strokes with a wide brush... he was obsessed with details, with little pieces of evidence, with apparent 'coincidences' that he didn't believe were coincidences...

She quietly climbed up the stairs and said softly "Good morning, sir…" He opened his eyes, a little startled, and she almost expected him to jump up and scurry away, embarrassed that she had seen him this way, but he remained where he was and said – mild surprise in his voice – "Oh, Camille… good morning! What are you doing here already?"

She asked "Mind if I sit down, too?" and made herself comfortable on the bench when he shook his head, saying "Go ahead…"

"I was up early," she explained, "and couldn't get back to sleep. So I thought I might as well come here… _bright and early_ , you know…"

She paused and then said a little hesitantly "Thank you… for your e-mail, I mean…"

He turned his head to look at her and said "No, thank you for e-mailing first. It was much appreciated."

He smiled a little, his gaze was open, and she was stunned for a moment by how clear and friendly his amazing green eyes were when he was relaxed like this. She couldn't help but smile back at him and asked, a little anxiously "Peace then?"

He nodded and confirmed "Peace… As far as I'm concerned, I've never been at war, anyway…"

And then, a little hastily, as if he had already said too much "Oh, look, there's Fidel… I suppose it's time to get to work then…"

* * *

"So, what's happening this weekend?" Dwayne asked when they all had an after-work-drink at La Kaz. Much to his relief, Camille and Richard had patched up somehow. He had noticed rightaway when he had come to work that morning. There hadn't been any tension, they hadn't bickered, they had even exchanged a few smiles – well, Camille had smiled. With the Chief, you never knew whether or not he was smiling – but his lips had twitched every once in a while. Dwayne counted that as smiling – Richard very rarely smiled the way others did...

While they had been out for their market patrol over lunch, he had asked Fidel if he knew any details, but the young sergeant had just shrugged and replied that he had no idea. When he had arrived at the station, Richard and Camille had sat together on the bench outside, peacefully and amicably. They had apparently buried the hatchet – for now.

In response to Dwayne's question, Fidel shrugged and said "Nothing, as far as I'm concerned. I'm on call, anyway, and Juliet wants to take Rosie to the beach as she had so much fun there last weekend. And you, Dwayne?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. I might go to the beach some time, too. Maybe I'll come to your place again… And I've been thinking… a beachfire would be nice, wouldn't it…"

"Oh, you mean drinks, some food, a camp fire without camping, some music… that sort of thing?" Camille asked. "That would be nice, yes. I haven't done that in ages! But not this weekend, at least not for me. I have to help out in the bar on Saturday. Maman has lots of reservations for her karaoke night, and she asked if I have time, so… if you're up to it, let's rather do it next weekend… Then the other station will be on call, anyway, so we wouldn't have to worry that we'd have to run off in the middle of it all to take care of a brawl or something like that…"

She turned to Richard and asked "Couldn't we do it at your beach, sir? It's the ideal place for that… there's some dried-up driftwood to gather for making the fire, and there are a few big logs we could sit on… We could all bring something – food and drinks, I mean, and Dwayne could bring his guitar, and we could talk about whatever and sing a little… wouldn't that be nice? I'd ask Joey and Andrew, too, if that's okay with everyone?"

Richard raised his eyebrows and asked sardonically "Do I have a say in that at all?"

Dwayne and Fidel laughed, and Camille gave a huff, but he could see that she was trying to hide a smile when she answered "Of course. You can set the time."

"Oh, really… well, how generous, Camille… Let's see… at what time do you usually start with that sort of thing?"

"Well, it's got to be some light left so we can pick up wood for the fire," Fidel explained, "so maybe six o'clock would be a good time for gathering… then we can prepare everything… and we should be ready to light the fire at around eight…"

Dwayne added "There won't be any work for you, sir – we'll bring all the stuff, we have coolers for food and drinks, and the only thing that might happen would be that we'd perhaps like to use your bathroom every once in a while… but we'd all be careful not to carry sand into your house!"

"Well, then…" Richard wrinkled his nose. "If you insist on having it near my house, then I'd say six o'clock on Saturday next weekend sounds good to me… We'll discuss the details as it gets closer, I guess…"

Dwayne and Camille exchanged a wink, and Fidel grinned. A beach fire next weekend was much better than the festival that Juliet had mentioned – that was still over a month away, and who knew what would happen until then…


	15. Confessions

Chapter 15 – Confessions

It was Saturday, and a glance at his watch showed Richard that he only had half an hour to get the kitchenette cleaned and polished before Joey would show up. His shack wasn't much to look at, but at least it was clean. He took pride in having a clean, hygienic home.

While he cleared the countertop and put his tea tins into order so they resembled soldiers standing in rank and file, he had to chuckle as he remembered Joey's tale of the voodoo grandma. The way she had explained that the lady's house had been a hotbed for germs and was clearly unhygienic had been too funny.

It had made him realise that he had _almost_ got used to the slightly sloppy and mildly unsanitary conditions in many households here – he had reacted like Joey when he had come across this phenomenon for the first time. Now, he just shrugged it off. He didn't have to live that way, it was up to him how he kept his house, and what others did was their business. Each to their own… He was a lot less critical now than he'd used to be. He wasn't sure if it was because he really cared less or if it was because life in the Caribbean had drained him so much that he had no energy for caring any more.

He took out a new dishtowel, put it on the hook near the sink and balled up the old one, tackling the sink, cleaning and polishing it thoroughly, when he heard a knock on the frame of his veranda door. He looked up, and there was Joey, in a long black-and-white cotton skirt and an oversized white blouse with wide batwing sleeves and a light shawl collar. The pattern of the skirt was reprised in the black-and-white bandana that was tied up at the back of her head – another example for her slightly eccentric way of dressing. Richard thought that just like Camille, you couldn't possibly overlook Joey – they both had a very unique style. Camille's was clearly more classy, but Joey's was more offbeat… for lack of a better word. Like Camille, she was stunning – just in a different way.

"Ah, there you are," he said. "You found it then…"

"Yes, I did," Joey said with an embarrassed little laugh. "It wasn't so difficult, you know… I'm sorry that I'm overly punctual, but I was nervous and couldn't stand sitting around at home and twiddling my thumbs, so I came a bit – um… early…"

"No problem," he said and gestured to the veranda. "Take a seat. Want something to drink?"

Richard took out two small bottles of water upon her request, and they sat down on his porch.

He waited for a while, but Joey didn't seem to know what to say. "So, what is it?" he finally asked, trying not to sound impatient. She had asked for this – not him. Why didn't she say what she wanted?

She looked at the bottle in her hands and said apprehensively "I don't quite know how to begin… but well, I guess I just have to start somewhere… so…"

She took a deep breath and looked at him. "Listen, Richard, before I say anything else, let me thank you for never asking me any stupid questions about my life and for just accepting me the way I presented myself. Not everyone is that accepting, and I really value this… I mean… that you never… that you never poked your nose into my business although you must have wondered sometimes... That's quite different from what I've experienced with a lot of others, namely people from the police, so… I appreciate it."

Richard nodded. He was mildly surprised about this opening – 'accepting' wasn't an adjective people generally used to describe him -, but he remained silent.

Joey continued hesitantly "I got a letter the other day, and I – I will have to go away for a while. Or forever… although I might come back at some point. I don't know as of yet… As it is, I need to sort something out, and I don't know where it will lead me. I could disappear without a word, I guess, and that's what I had originally planned. You see, I came here… for a temporary period only, anyway, and I hadn't expected I'd make any connections or friends. I just wanted to have peace, work, and… come back to my senses. I kind of forgot that it rarely ever turns out that way. We're not alone in this world, and interactions happen – you can't just shut down and live as a hermit. Well, others might – I can't. I think I misjudged my abilities there…"

She paused and took a swig from her bottle. Richard hadn't said a word so far, he had just listened, watching her…

She looked down on her hands for a moment, then turned to face him again and said "I will have to tell you things that I haven't revealed voluntarily to anyone so far. I have been hiding all that, and I hadn't intended to talk about it, but now that I have made friends here, I think I'll have to come out with all that and explain my actions. I want people to understand. But I… I just can't… I don't have the energy to talk about it with everyone I care about. Like Camille – who has become so dear to me."

She looked straight into his eyes and said "You're in love with her, aren't you."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Richard was taken aback and said very stiffly "Honestly, Joey, I was under the impression that we were going to talk about _you_ and not about _me_."

He was hardly ready to admit his feelings to himself - there was no way he was going to make any confessions to anybody else.

She kept looking at him, waiting for a better answer. Understanding that she wouldn't let him off the hook, he conceded "Well, I do _care_ about her, if that's what you mean."

He sounded very pompous here, and he knew it, but he couldn't help himself, it wasn't anybody's business what he was feeling.

Joey laughed a little mirthlessly and said "It isn't _quite_ what I mean, and you know that, but I'll let you give a pass on it… I know I'm right - because I've been watching you. I have an antenna for that sort of thing."

Richard's eyebrows went up. That sounded like Camille's "I have a hunch" – really, _women_ … why did they have to be so irrational. But then again, she had a point, and he felt she had got him there… Still, he wasn't ready to make any concessions. This wasn't about him, after all!

Then he heard her saying "And I know because – had the circumstances been different – I could easily have fallen in love with her, too. You see, Richard… I'm not interested in men."

"Oh," he said. And then, after a moment of silence "Well, that makes two of us. I'm not interested in men, either." He wasn't trying to be funny – the words just fell out of his mouth.

She couldn't help giggling. "You're droll," she said. "It's been a while since anybody has been so plain, prosaic and deadpan about my confessions… But tell me, you don't seem surprised…"

She shot him an inquiring glance.

"No. No, I'm not really surprised," he admitted. "I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was, but I kind of knew. I wasn't sure if it was because – like – er – so many people - you had been disappointed and hurt in the past or if you generally were – er – only attracted to women. Not that it makes any difference to me, mind you. It's none of my business."

There was silence for a while, then Joey took up the thread again. "Well, this isn't actually why I wanted to talk to you… or let me re-phrase that… it's one aspect of why I wanted to talk to you, but it's part of a more complex story…"

She heaved a big sigh and said "Look… I don't want to bore you with all the details, so I'll try and focus on what you need to know. You have already heard that I'm an electrician and later on went to university to get my Bachelor in Engineering. I discovered during my apprenticeship that I wasn't into men… it's not that I don't like men as friends – I think you have noticed that much, after all I'm here to talk to you, and I wouldn't if I didn't feel you're a friend – not a close one, but yet more than a mere acquaintance – and you are very obviously male! – but I just don't fancy men in any other way. Now, of course, my work field is dominated by men, I was the only girl wherever I looked, and there were an awful lot of guys who thought it was fun to flirt with me or who even told me I'd get better results in my project grades and everything if only I were a bit friendlier to them – and you know what that means!"

Richard nodded. He had heard similar stories from young female police officers, and he remembered being called a dumb idiot by colleagues who couldn't understand that he never took advantage of female officers who were part of his team for a few months during their training period. Some people just didn't understand that it was plain wrong and immoral. Not to mention that casual sex wasn't his cup of tea, anyway – why would anybody want to go for that? It was disrespectful – besides other things – at least in his eyes. There was more to physical intimacy than just lust. You had to trust someone, there had to be some common ground to move on – oh, there were so many aspects to consider.

Joey continued "I didn't tell anyone I was into women. I wasn't entirely sure myself back then, but honestly, Richard – even if I was heterosexual, I think I would've been disgusted with how some of my male coworkers treated me. They all stared at my – er – rack… yes, I know, you can't overlook that I'm well-equipped, but still… - and made dirty comments and innuendos about how they could make me feel good, how they'd make me 'feel the energy and electrify me' and all that stupid rubbish. More than once I was in tricky situations where I had to work on projects in the middle of nowhere with a cohort of men, and not always there was someone around who'd protect me. I mean, I was 17 or 18… Sometimes I was scared out of my wits. I'm naturally big-mouthed, so I tried to cover up my insecurities by being overly casual and feisty, and it worked pretty well with many men. I avoided certain co-workers, if possible, and my boss was very sensible and understanding – but still… some of my co-workers simply were… swine. Forgive me for saying so, but I got a really distorted view of men back then…"

Richard snorted and said "Can't blame you. So, you decided to go to uni so you'd have a degree and could work in better positions, with fewer – er – nasty buggers around?"

"Right," Joey said. She was speaking freely now, encouraged by Richard's matter-of-fact manner. "I was on a scholarship and had also saved some money, so I got by – financially. Emotionally, it wasn't always easy. I found my 'tribe' eventually, as they say, but I struggled initially… I have a working class background, and well… not everyone is happy about us plebeians mingling with the elite."

Richard nodded knowingly. He had attended boarding school and seemingly had the 'right' background – albeit 'only' being middle class -, but his parents weren't rich, and he had also been on a scholarship at Cambridge… so he knew where she was coming from.

Joey went on "I had two unhappy relationships there – well, they were happy at first, but I'm sure you know how things can go sour. Then in my final year… I met Timmy…"

Her voice was dreamy now, her gaze was soft… and she smiled happily. She noticed Richard's puzzled look, and she explained "Her first name is Pamina – like the gormless, passive princess in the Magic Flute, you know, and she hated it. She's nothing like that. Her surname is Timmins and we called her Timmy upon her request."

Richard smiled a little and said "Joey and Timmy… that sounds like a comedy duo or an a-cappella-singing duo…"

Joey replied "Oh, I know. A bit like Laurel & Hardy… or like Tom & Jerry… or Armstrong & Miller… But let me show you…"

She grabbed her purse, opened it and dug for her wallet. Finally, she retrieved a photo – a real paper photo that had a few creases already. It showed her together with another young woman around her age, maybe a little younger – she was fairly tall, had dark wavy hair, big dark eyes and an open, happy smile. The two of them stood in front of a tree, hugging each other with their faces cheek to cheek, smiling into the camera.

"This was taken when we were out with our girls' club from uni, for a hike. I was her first 'serious' girlfriend – after a few flings that had resulted in nothing… We met at a literary discussion thing – a bit like a panel show on stage, in a club. It was about women in Victorian literature, and while everyone was gushing about 'Jane Eyre' and how groundbreaking that novel had been, she pointed out that – while the book _did_ have a lot of great aspects – it couldn't be overlooked that Mr Rochester still was a creepy bigamist who only got redeemed in the end because he became blind and dependent on Jane. She got a lot of opposition from others in the group who pointed out that 'Reader, I married him' showed that she was a feminist after all because it wasn't 'Reader, he married me', but she would have none of it and argued that Rochester had played a nasty manipulative double game with Jane all the time to see if he could break her… but I'm digressing! Timmy was fabulous. Radiant. It was love at first sight. And much to my surprise, it was mutual…"

She shook her head, still amazed at how someone like Timmy would fall for her.

"We never had to hide our feelings around anyone, and there were a lot of guys we were friends with, too. In general, us being lesbian was no issue for the others. Timmy read English literature, so we had a rather eclectic and diverse circle of friends. Oh, those were the days…"

Joey smiled. Richard could see that she had happy memories of that time…

"Then," she went on, "we graduated and tried to find jobs, and it got complicated. I'll spare you the details, but I ended up having to do temp work as a regular electrician for way too long, and Timmy got one awful job after another. She could have asked her parents for help as her dad knew all sorts of people, but she didn't want that. She said she wanted to do things on her own and not depend on 'connections'. But let me tell you, Richard - it was hard. Eventually, though, she found a steady job, and we could make a living together. We rented a small flat together, it was on her name. Her parents weren't happy with her being lesbian – and me being 'vulgar' and 'inappropriate', as they said! - and tried to estrange her from me, but she stood by me. We were happy."

She was silent again, lost in memories.


	16. Chasms

Chapter 16 - Chasms

After another moment of silence, Richard asked, trying not to sound too abrupt "And then?"

Joey sighed and continued "And then… we were away on holidays, in one of the seaside towns… A bunch of guys who were obviously mostly into getting plastered had followed us around for a while, but we had paid no heed because we were foolish and thought we were invincible. We kept bumping into them, and they tried to hook up with us, but we showed them very clearly we weren't interested. The time at Cambridge had made me reckless… I lived in a bubble and had forgotten how homophobic and presumptuous people can be. I figured Timmy's parents were the exception, and although I should have known better, I ignored the signs. And Timmy didn't understand, either…"

She looked at the photo again and sniffled. Richard asked softly "You got into a pinch and Timmy and you got hurt?"

Joey nodded slowly, seemingly lost in thought, trying to pull herself together.

Then she looked up, straight into his eyes, and asked fiercely "Tell me, Richard, why do people pick on others who are different? Why are they so keen on hurting them? Where does all that hate come from? I just don't get it… Timmy was very nearly raped while I had to watch – they had gagged me, I was tied to one of those awful plastic camping chairs – like the one we sat on at David's, in the fish and chips place I took you to. While two of them were trying their luck with her – fortunately, they both couldn't – er – _perform_ , if you know what I mean, the other two entertained themselves with pulling my hair, slapping me, beating me… and extinguishing their fags on me…"

Richard stared at her in disbelief. "You mean they…"

Joey sighed and took off the bandana, lifted a broad strand of hair and turned her head so he could see the red round scars at the nape of her neck, right at the hairline. Then, she pushed up one of her sleeves and showed him more scars – same size, same shape – under her arm.

"I have a few more on the inside of my thighs," she said matter-of-factly, "but I assume you won't care for seeing them… All in all, I have fifteen of these. Fortunately, not on my face… I think that would be even harder to live with. I hide them – not because I'm ashamed of them… but rather because I don't want people to ask questions and make me explain. Basically, it's easier just to hide them. They are a part of me now, and I have to live with them, but that doesn't mean I want to discuss them. And people _would_ ask – out of harmless curiosity, without having an idea what asking questions could mean for the person being asked. As it is, I don't want to lie, but I don't want to talk about it all, either – so it's easier for me to just cover them up. With time, they will get paler anyway. Give me a few more months or so, and I might change my mind in regard to talking about the whole thing, but for the time being, it's easier this way."

He shook his head, totally dumbfounded. He knew what it was like to be singled out and picked on, and he had been bashed up a couple of times during his school years, for no other reason than being different from others, so the helpless questions that Joey had formulated earlier on resonated with him. He had never understood, either, why people took so much pleasure in hurting and injuring others. For some, it just seemed to be part of being human – as depressing as it sounded…

Later, as an adult, while working for the police, he had heard many sad tales, but Joey's was surely one of the most horrible ones he had ever come across.

"They got bored when Timmy passed out, so they focused on me then. They didn't try to rape me, though – I really think it wasn't because they didn't want to, but rather because they couldn't, they all were too drunk… But they certainly enjoyed beating and torturing me. Maybe they felt that would be more fun than rape, anyway? I honestly have no idea. I don't remember what happened, but the next thing I know is that I found myself in a heap on the floor of a dingy shed sitting on the beach, next to a whimpering, crying Timmy. She was half-conscious again, but she couldn't talk… I will never forget this horrible mewling sound she made… it was heartbreaking."

She took out a tissue and blew her nose.

After a few minutes of silence, she looked up again and said matter-of-factly "Someone… someone who was walking their dog on the beach found us… I imagine we were the talk of the town for a while, but I honestly don't know, and I don't care to find out. Both of us spent quite some time in hospitals – different ones. She was transferred quickly to a private hospital, while I… oh well. We were not officially married or anything like that, and her parents took her away, the arrangements for the flat were cancelled, and I was basically homeless when I got out of hospital. I had no… I had no right to get information on Timmy because of our status – or, more precisely, lack thereof. My belongings were boxed and stored in a storage unit, the hospital gave me the info that someone had been there and left an envelope for me… Inside was a typed note from Timmy's parents, informing me that I was 'persona non grata' in their family. There also was the tag of the storage unit so at least I had my clothes and a few sentimental items… I went to the police, and I thought there'd be court proceedings so the gang would be caught and sent to prison, but it never happened – the whole thing was turned down after a while because the offenders couldn't be traced and identified. Or so I was told. Might also be that the whole thing was smothered up… Don't ask me – I have no idea."

Bitterness in her face, she paused again.

After a little while, she continued "In any case, I didn't know where to turn – my parents are both deceased, and the only family I have is Andrew - and his parents. So, after a few days in a hostel where I had nightmares and panic attacks and was asked to leave because I disturbed the other guests, I called them. They took me in, and I lived with them for a few weeks, then I felt I had to go away. There always was a silent reproach from their side… as if I had done something wrong… They only know half of what happened – I didn't want to burden them with the entire truth… I mean… nobody would benefit if I told them everything. They know I got into trouble and was beaten up, but other than that, I didn't give them any information. And as far as I know, they never bothered finding out more. They are good people, but they tend to think that if you get beaten up, you must have done something provocative, so… Well, I tried to contact Timmy, but she had a new phone number, all her online accounts had been deleted, and her parents had actually hired a lawyer who threatened to take me to court if I kept 'pestering' them when I wrote a letter to her – that they intercepted. So, I came here… to forget about it all, regroup and try to decide what to do with my life."

She went silent once again, a thoughtful expression on her face now. Turning her head, she looked at Richard again and said "Andrew was ready and willing to take me in. He's like an older brother for me, and he has only a very general idea of what has happened, like his parents. I don't think it would be good for either of us if he knew more. He tolerates the sometimes rather noisy nightmares that I have every once in a while. He knows I'm into girls, but it doesn't bother him, and as long as I do my job and keep a low profile, all is well. He said people here are relaxed and easy-going, and indeed… I haven't encountered anybody nasty here as of yet. I thought I could recover and heal here, and in a way, this has happened… I didn't really want to be here, but I had nowhere else to go… I kept to myself for quite some time… and then I met you and Camille and your team, and now everything is different. I was confronted with a few things from the past, and it got me into thinking. I can't hide here forever. And what's more… the past is coming back to me now…"

"Ah. I guess this is where the letter you mentioned comes onto the scene?" Richard asked.

Joey nodded and said "You know, I never thought it would happen, but Timmy has found me. She… couldn't find me online because I had basically disappeared… I had decided it hurt too much, and I was about to give up on the whole thing, and I was about to resign to making peace with the past and living my life without her. But now… She has written me a letter. A real, actual letter, written in long hand, sent with the post… my old address book had been in one of her boxes – pure coincidence, you know! – and she found my uncle's and aunt's address in there. So, that's where she sent her letter, asking them to pass it on to me – wherever I was - and they forwarded it to Andrew's address here. It arrived here a little over two weeks ago. By registered mail, can you imagine… How long has it been since you received a registered letter?"

Richard raised his eyebrows and said "I can't remember, honestly…"

Joey nodded and continued "Needless to say, I was gobsmacked… Whatever… As it is… she says she loves me, she has never stopped loving me, and she literally begged me to give her a sign and tell her where I am so we can… so we can get together again. Her great-aunt – who always was the only family member who supported her emotionally and wasn't embarrassed with our relationship – passed away and left her some money, so she's independent now. She left her parents, and she has moved in with two of our gay friends from uni times... crazy goofballs, but so kind, and so much fun! - I still love her, and I know I couldn't forget her. I know I shouldn't have left the UK until she got better and found a way to contact me, but I really thought I had no other choice. And I didn't think she'd want me any more after all this. I mean… I hadn't been able to protect her, so I had failed on her – that's how I felt. It's all very irrational, but maybe you understand… We're all human, and we do stupid things. It was perhaps stupid to run away, but the pain and hurt was too much for me. My life was a shambles, and I felt I had to go to some far away place to… to find myself again. In any case, none of what happened was her fault. Her parents had told her I had left without a word, and for a while she almost believed them… It all sounds very fustian and somewhat Victorian, doesn't it… the whole scenario doesn't seem to fit into today's world. Kind of ironic, considering how we first met…"

For several minutes, neither of them said a word, then Richard cleared his throat and asked "And you want to go back to the UK now to see Timmy and find out if you can… resurrect your love?"

Joey shrugged and looked at him. "What would _you_ do if you had thought you had lost the love of your life, and then she comes up to you and tells you she still wants you? You can't really turn that down, can you? I mean… I'm pretty sure we'd all grab that chance… With the time difference, it hasn't been easy, but we have managed to skype three times since her letter arrived, and… oh, Richard, you have no idea what it's like when… when all you've ever wanted, all you've ever dreamed of – but didn't dare to hope for – suddenly happens… The first time we actually both could hardly talk, I cried like a baby, and Timmy did the same…"

No, indeed… he had no idea… Richard was a little embittered about how right Joey was with that statement.

"When will you leave?" he asked warily. He still didn't know how he was supposed to fit in the whole scenario, but he had a really bad feeling about where this might be heading…

"Well, I'll still be there for the beach fire that Camille spoke about when I saw her at the gym yesterday night. I'm not too keen on fire in general these days, as you can imagine after what I just told you about my scars, but I have learnt to cope, and I should be okay. I'll be with friends, so that will help. - But I'll be gone soon after that. I have booked my flight home for the following Saturday… from Guadeloupe. I didn't get a flight from here, and so I'll have to take the ferry in the morning, plus I'll have to change planes in Paris, so it'll be a long, long trip, but it'll all be worth it… I'll be going home, after all."

"How are you going to tell Camille about all this?" Richard asked.

Joey looked at him and said hesitatingly "See, Richard, and this is why I've come round to tell you my story… I had hoped you would…"

Richard knew what was coming now, and he shook his head, lifted his hand in protest and said firmly "No. Forget it. No way… I mean, I feel honoured that you have told me all this, and I… I have no idea how you survived without getting a bitter, nasty person… and… I admire you for your strength of character - but no, I cannot pass this on to Camille… It's not _my_ story!"

Joey shot him a desperate glance, trying to appeal to his softer side, but he repeated "No. No, Joey. I can't help you with that. You've got to tell her yourself. I'm ready to help, but not… not like this… Just consider my position in this scenario… And think about Camille's feelings… The two of you are friends, and Camille would feel betrayed if she found out you told me all this while you had left her in the dark. And she would have every right to feel that way… She'd feel hurt because you hadn't trusted her enough – that's how she would see it, and she'd wonder why you had told me… It would be like we both betrayed her – you as well as myself – and Camille deserves better than this. She's a sincere, honest and compassionate person herself, and she should be treated with respect."

For a long, long time, Joey didn't say anything. She looked down on the photo in her hand, deep in thoughts, and it was clear that she struggled with knowing what was right and feeling the temptation to take the easy way out. He could see that she realised he was right with what he had just said. She had only looked at it from her own position, eager to get it out of the way, eager to pass on the responsibility, eager to avoid having to face Camille's reaction…

Finally, she looked up again and sighed. "You know, Richard, I hate to say it, but I think you've got a point. It would be cowardly to try and get away like this. I'll figure out a way to handle it, I promise. I can't promise that you'll like my way of dealing with it, but I will try to keep the damage as minimal as possible. You see, I have learnt a few things about Camille over time, and… she will be hurt, either way, but of course, you are right… I shouldn't make it harder for her by… by giving her the feeling I didn't trust her. Could you… I mean, could you at least try and help me by being there for her when she needs a friend?"

Richard snorted and blurted out "You think she'll come running to _me_ of all people here on the island? I don't think that will happen. I mean, we have just returned to normal after that fall-out earlier this week, but she's so keen on showing how independent and strong she is, she won't want me to see her breaking down and being hurt… Plus I think that although we… we get on most of the time, she's closer to others, and I'm definitely not on top of the list of people she'd confide in… And even if she did… I wouldn't know what to say…"

He said that last bit in a very low voice, almost inaudibly, but Joey heard him, and she also sensed the frustration with himself that he tried so hard to hide.

She shook her head and said "You've got no idea, Richard. You don't know how she talks about you. You didn't see her face when the two of you were dancing. Take my word - she trusts you – unconditionally. And you're not only a friend to her. You're much, much more, but she's afraid to let it show because she doesn't know how you feel about her. I mean, you try so hard not to show feelings, but I know you have them. You wouldn't have done a lot of things I've seen you doing if you had no feelings. And I think that deep down, you know it, Richard… there's more to Camille than her tough, stubborn, feisty, temperamental side. She's all that, you know that much, but like everyone, she's got her insecurities, too. She's afraid of getting abandoned, afraid of being taken for granted, and afraid of getting hurt."


	17. Thoughts and Feelings

Chapter 17 – Thoughts and Feelings

It was already late when Richard got up from the chair on his veranda that Saturday evening and went inside to brew himself another mug of tea. After Joey had left again, he had automatically continued with his household chores – he had finished cleaning the kitchen, polished the fittings in the bathroom, ironed his T-shirts, handkerchiefs and tea towels, and tried to get the loathsome sand out of his shack. Finally, he had cooked himself dinner – nothing spectacular, but it had been okay. Then he had watched a little TV, and eventually, he had sat outside with a book. But he couldn't focus on the history of slave trade in the Caribbean…

He couldn't stop thinking about what Joey had told him. There was her own tale – the love story between her and Timmy and what the two of them had gone through – and what she had said about Camille.

It had touched him that Joey had confided in him, but he wasn't quite sure if it hadn't been better for everyone if he had been left in blissful ignorance. Knowledge could be a burden, after all. He had no idea how he was supposed to act towards Camille over the time until Joey's departure – knowing she'd have to face the hurt about the loss of yet another friend and not being able to do anything about it – except for being there and trying to make the pain a little easier, if possible. Being aware of his own shortcomings, he doubted he could actually do much – or rather, if whatever he tried to do would bring the desired results.

Sure, Joey might return some time, as she had said, but it wouldn't be the same… She would be with Timmy, and the friendship with Camille would be scarred to a certain extent. He knew that Camille wasn't the kind of person who held grudges – but even for her it would be hard to get over what could easily be interpreted as an abandonment or a breach of trust …

Joey had been unwavering in her belief that Camille cared more about him than he realised. He had dismissed her claim that Camille saw more in him than just someone who ranged between 'acquaintance' and 'friend', neither fish nor fowl, but Joey had insisted and said she had numerous examples for how Camille had praised his qualities – "mind you, often in passing, almost casually – but it's obvious that you are important to her" – and after all, she had seen the two of them dancing together.

Richard had been somewhat exasperated by her claims. Much to his dismay, Joey wouldn't abandon the topic although she could easily see how uncomfortable he felt. Sadly, he couldn't just walk away from the conversation – they were at his house, after all. No matter how hard he had tried to change the subject and get away from talking about all these personal things – she had insisted. He had wriggled like a worm and tried hard not to dispute with her, so he wouldn't reveal his feelings even more than he had done already, but he hadn't been able to stop himself from asking sarcastically, almost defiantly, why Camille had treated him like an idiot afterwards if she had been so stoked with the dance.

Joey had laughed and said "Really, Richard, what a foolish question! I know you had your eyes closed, so you couldn't see the enchanted look on her face. Like something magical was happening to her... But didn't you _feel_ it? I'm sure you did, you just don't trust your feelings. She was like putty in your hands, and when she came back to her senses, she was totally taken aback by the effect that the dance had on her - and later on, she was embarrassed and hoped you wouldn't notice how much it had meant to her so you wouldn't get all flustered and awkward… or feel 'obliged' to make a further move on her – which is all she wants, if you ask me, but she can't admit it to herself… or maybe she can, but wants to hide it for whatever reason. As it is, she can't possibly make a move herself – not when she doesn't know how you feel about her. You have not exactly been liberal with showing your emotions. And maybe she doesn't want to need someone in her life? Maybe she has been disappointed in the past? You know, you're not the only one who has loved and lost… You may think you're the only one, but honestly, what makes you believe that everyone is riding the bus, but you are the only one who pays the fare? That's a bit presumptuous, isn't it? Camille isn't superhuman or invulnerable. Maybe she fears that you'll go away and leave her – so why make the effort and get closer now? You've never hidden your wish to return to the UK, after all…"

He had just stared at her for two full minutes without saying anything, and then Joey – who had remained silent, too, and relentlessly stared back at him - had remarked dryly "You may want to shut your mouth again now, Richard. You should really not swallow literally all the nasty little bugs flying around. It might be extra protein, but it really is _very_ unsanitary! - All I can say is that I know what I have seen, and no matter how much you are playing hide-and-seek… the feelings are there, on _both_ sides, and you should make a move some time – or you'll bitterly regret it all your life. You don't want it all to wither away into nothing, do you? You deserve to be happy, and so does Camille. Why don't you give it a try? I know, you are her boss, so that certainly has to be taken into consideration, but I'm sure this is not as huge an obstacle as you're pretending it to be… I also understand you don't want to start a fire without being sure it will last – but seriously, Richard… do you want to let this chance for happiness go by? You'd live to rue it forever. You're both great people, and you care about each other. Sure, chances are you'll find it challenging to adjust to being in a relationship, but why won't you try? I know you don't consider change being a good thing, but it will happen, anyway, one way or the other, so isn't it better to go ahead and make changes that suit you instead of letting things happen to you that you might have been able to avoid – if you just had been a bit more alert and proactive? Life isn't meant to be spent safely in a harbour. You've got to go out and take chances… And I have to be honest – I have selfish reasons for what I'm saying. It would be an enormous relief for me to know that she wouldn't feel lonely and worried about where she stands with you any more. She has never said anything, but I'm neither dumb nor blind, and I _know_ you are important to her… And you'd be good for each other. You'd _earth_ one another, as we say in my business…"

Before he could come up with a reply, she had got up and thanked him for listening. "You know, I had been worried it might be too difficult, too painful, too emotional. I had buried all this so deep, and dragging it out into the light has been hard, but it's also been a cathartic experience. I just don't want to repeat it any time soon… It has helped that you just listened, without judging, without telling me how sorry you are for me and all that. I know you're not unfeeling, you tried to listen with non-committal neutrality and detachment. I do appreciate this, and I want you to know that you've made me think. I have to take charge and do my best not to hurt anyone in the process… Not quite what I had in mind when I showed up here, but it's good that you made me look at things from a different angle."

She had bent down to kiss him on the cheek, and he had let it happen, still a little taken aback by the conversation they'd just had. On her way back to the car, she had turned around once more and called "Oh, and as far as the detachment goes – I needed that in this context, and it's certainly a very useful feature in your job, Richard… but it can be an infuriating one in a more private setting. Give it a chance… Camille cares for you, and all she wants is reassurance that you care for her, too…"

Initially, Richard had doubted Joey's observations. She hadn't known Camille for very long yet – how on earth had she found out all these things? But then he realised that the two women had spent much time together… and while Camille definitely wasn't one of the people who'd wear their emotions right on their sleeve all the time, no matter how impulsive she appeared to be at first glance, she surely hadn't been on her guard with Joey constantly, either – and she might have said things in passing that an observant person would pick up and interpret accordingly.

And Joey _was_ observant. She was shrewd, too. In a way, she and Camille were similar – he realised that in a sudden epiphany. Just like Camille blinded people with her compassionate, seemingly open way, Joey's apparent happy-go-lucky manner was deceptive, too…

She was big-mouthed, as she had admitted herself, and she had appeared self-confident when he had first met her – only with time, he had realised that her assertive behaviour only partly was genuine – to a certain extent it was part of her survival strategy in a world that claimed to take up the cause of tolerance, equal opportunities and political correctness, but was basically just as two-faced, judgemental and full of double-standards as it had always been. Sure, some things had become better over the past decades, but there still was a lot of hypocrisy, bigotry and narrow-mindedness. Richard was inclined to believe that the world would never be free of that – people were people, after all, and it was human to have prejudices and follow gurus who claimed to have a universal recipe for life – but against all odds, he hoped that given some time, ignorance and injustice wouldn't be so omnipresent any more. He wouldn't live to see this development, though – he was sure of that.

After having followed this philosophical discourse, he focused on the actual topic again and redirected his thoughts to Camille and their relationship – whatever it was.

Camille was a complex person, Joey had a point with that. Richard had understood with time that she was she was not as open as she appeared to be – she hardly ever talked about personal things, actually she was as reserved as he was in a lot of ways – only more subtly, more artfully, less obviously than him.

With a crooked smile, he thought that it might not be a coincidence that 'Camille' sounded a little like 'chameleon'… True, it had taken him a while to understand that she wasn't only courageous, brave and determined, but that she also had soft spots, that she was vulnerable, that she was sensitive and smart at the same time… For his taste, she didn't show this side often enough…

However… Joey's remark that she was afraid of getting abandoned, afraid of being taken for granted, and afraid of getting hurt seemed a bit too strong…

But then again, what did he really know? Maybe she _was_ all that… Just because he didn't see it didn't mean it wasn't there, he had learnt that much through his work. With a pang, he realised that he didn't really know all that much about her past. All he knew was what he had seen and heard… and what he had felt.

When she had mentioned that her father had left the family when she was a kid, he had sensed the hurt in her voice, although she had added a casual "Oh, don't worry, it's his loss…"

When her friend had been killed, he had seen the pain and the tears, and he had felt incapable and powerless in view of her despair.

And when they had been cooped up in the weather station, she had been soft and compassionate… he had been sorely tempted to cuddle up to her and just enjoy her nearness. And there had been other opportunities when she had let him see the person behind the façade.

During the first year of his stay he had been too pre-occupied with finding his feet to notice, but over the second year, he had been more aware of it… And her behaviour towards him had slightly changed with time, he realised that in hindsight.

He had no idea how Joey would know for sure that he had loved and lost, but maybe one didn't have to be a clairvoyant or a sorcerer to be aware of how a good deal of his reservedness towards women was rooted in the disappointments of the past. And so many people had made unpleasant experiences… maybe he had just taken them too seriously and overrated them. He couldn't tell. He just knew that several letdowns in a row had made him shut down and wish he could just stop being attracted to women. But no, that hadn't happened… despite all his negative experiences, he couldn't bring himself to ignoring them altogether. However, none of them had ever conquered a place in his heart any more…

Then Julia had showed up, and for the first time in years, he had felt butterflies in his stomach again – not that he had admitted it at the time. He had been confused, and he had tried to convince himself that his feelings were purely paternal (complete rubbish, really. The attraction clearly hadn't been based on paternal feelings – although he had tried hard to ignore that fact, as he knew now!).

Despite all this, he knew for sure that even if they had had a chance to have their drink together, nothing would have come out of it. First of all, he was shy around women, so it would have taken him several attempts to actually get beyond the 'getting to know each other' point.

And not only would he have been his usual awkward self, there would have been too many other obstacles as well. He wouldn't have been ready to let anyone into his life, and she would have left for the UK again, as she had announced. Saint Marie had been a pit stop for her, a hideaway. Like Joey, she had come here to heal. And she had been ready to leave when she had visited him that evening – she had said she'd go home and get on with her life. So it would have been a temporary affair, anyway, and while he knew that this was not what he would have wanted, he realised now that _something_ had changed after this episode.

After Julia, he hadn't been the same any more. He had not been able to shut the door again completely that she had pushed open. He had started to look at the world with different eyes. He had always known _theoretically_ that life could be over in an instant – and he had seen it happening in his professional life more than once -, but after what had happened to Julia – someone he had known, someone who had been so friendly and caring towards him – he had suddenly realised the full meaning of how short life _really_ was, and slowly but surely, he had become aware of a change in his stance.

Little by little, he had noticed all sorts of details that had completely passed him by during his first year on the island. And he had changed… not much, not fundamentally, but there were details he handled differently now.

His relationship with Camille also had changed. With a twitch of his mouth he thought that if he had had butterflies in his stomach regarding Julia, it had mostly been wasps with Camille during the first year of his stay.

But then things had got different… There had been a few situations when he had realised that she was trying to draw him out, that she seemed to want to spend time with him. He had been less guarded around her, and she had been more lenient with him. There had been less eye-rolling from her side, and on the way to crime scenes, they had had some interesting chats.

And then there had been the evening when he had been babysitting little Rosie, and Catherine had set up a blind date for Camille. He had waited on the patio of La Kaz, unaware of the fact that Camille's date was there, too, and for a few minutes, she had sat with him, and it had seemed like they really had a date…

It was then that he had realised how much he really felt for her. He had tried to ignore it, he had tried to fight it, he had tried to get over it.

It had all been in vain.

He had finally admitted to himself that – yes, he was attracted to her. It was more than physical, he knew that, too. He was over 40, a middle-aged man - he had learnt how to tell the difference between being physically attracted to someone and being fascinated by someone's personality. Beautiful women confused him, but he didn't pay much heed to that – it was temporary, and it passed quickly. Women who were only beautiful didn't haunt him.

But Camille wasn't only beautiful. She was extremely attractive, but besides that, she had personality, she was intelligent, she was enigmatic in many respects… she puzzled him, and the thought of her never left him alone. Yes, she haunted him, and it scared him. But it also mesmerised him. She had cast a spell on him – as old-fashioned, corny and clichéd as it sounded.

And she kept provoking him. He understood now that she kept trying to make him react. Why did she do that? Would she do that if she didn't care for him? Would she make efforts to include him in activities if he didn't mean anything to her?

Maybe Joey had a point.

Maybe Camille had feelings for him and wanted him to reassure her that he had feelings for her, too, but was confused by his ostensible lack of interest – while he didn't dare to show his feelings out of fear of rejection… and because of his ever-present self-doubts… Maybe he shouldn't be so obsessed with his doubts, qualms and scruples… maybe he should stop overthinking. He had spent so much time on thinking about the situation – and where had it led him? Nowhere…

He sighed. It was easy for Joey to talk about 'making a move'. What _kind_ of move could that be? Asking her to go for a drink with him would be pretty pointless, they went for drinks after work, anyway. So, what could he do? How could he keep his cool around her? He did care for her, and she was important to him, but she also made him terribly nervous. And she sometimes outright scared him. He knew now that he had only found the courage to ask Julia if she wanted to go for a drink with him because she had been so sweet and trusting – she hadn't confused or scared him like Camille sometimes did. And he had been aware of the fact that Julia would leave, anyway - so that had perhaps given him the courage to ask... simply because he had known that their time together wouldn't have consequences in his daily life, whether or not it was 'successful' (whatever that meant!) - while he would have to look into Camille's face everyday... and that would be tremendously difficult if an evening out together with her had been a failure...

How to _make a move_ under these circumstances?

He didn't want to do anything too dramatic, but he wasn't resourceful enough to come up with something that would be harmless enough so he wouldn't lose face if it didn't work out…

If he asked her out for dinner, she'd think it was a 'date'… not that anything would be wrong with a date, but he didn't want to call it a date! A 'date' sounded too dangerous, too much like a 'commitment'. Not that he didn't want a commitment, but well… Oh, whatever! It seemed like an irresolvable dilemma.

' _Making a move'_ …

What on earth could he do?

And anyway…

The idea in itself was scary.

What if he failed?

But then again... what if he succeeded?

He wasn't quite sure what terrified him more…


	18. Ruminations

Chapter 18 – Ruminations

While Richard was pondering all this, Camille was busy serving drinks and trying to ignore the not-too-stellar singing that the karaoke event at her mother's bar brought along. The hubris of some people was quite amazing. She shook her head in disbelief as she listened to two young women butchering "Jambalaya"… and hoped she'd be able to listen to the Carpenters again in the future without having this distorted version in her head. Admittedly, the lyrics didn't make much sense, but that didn't mean you could just sing whatever you wanted – and off key, on top of that…

Karaoke nights often were fun as some people really had good voices and came up with amazingly good performances, but this time, the majority of people had no talent whatsoever, and Camille couldn't wait for the whole thing to be over. She had agreed to help out until midnight, and that meant she'd have to get through one more hour of bad singing… She didn't mind helping her mother, and she liked parties, fun and dancing, but of course, she was here to work, so it wasn't really a party for her, and generally, evenings at the bar were so much better when the music was good and there were people among the guests that you liked and got on with so you could share a quick joke or have a little chat in between… Tonight, there were mostly tourists and strangers, though…

Fortunately, the crowd wasn't as bad as it had been earlier this evening. Midnight wasn't too far any more, and she knew that she could leave then – and she was thankful for not having to stay around until the wee hours. Her mother usually closed down at around 1 a.m. on weekends, but sometimes it took her a while to get rid of the last few customers.

She wondered what Joey might be up to this evening. When she had told her about the karaoke night, she had half-expected her to be excited and come to the bar for a while – Joey liked having fun, and Camille would have loved to have her around – even if she hadn't been able to sit and chat with her, it would have been nice to see a familiar face in the crowd. Dwayne was there, of course, but that was different…

Joey had been strangely disinterested in the karaoke night, though. She had been somewhat absent-minded lately, anyway, and Camille had started to wonder a little if her friend was worried about something. When she had asked her, Joey had just shook her head and smiled. "Nothing serious. Just cobwebs, you know," she had said.

Camille understood that. Every once in a while, things from the past came to haunt her, too, so she knew what it could be like. Actually, she was in a phase of dealing with cobwebs right now, too. She had woken up in the middle of the night recently, her face wet with tears – and she had realised she had dreamed about Aimee once again. There was nothing you could do about that sort of thing… Since she was still suspecting that Joey was carrying around some emotional baggage that she just didn't want to talk about, she figured that her friend might be dealing with demons from the past – just like herself.

She knew now that it had been silly to be jealous of Joey and thinking she might be a rival when it came to Richard's attention - or even his affection. These two weren't really interested in one another – beyond casual friendship, as far as Richard was capable of that. He and Joey had had a couple of funny exchanges at the bar, and Camille knew that they got on pretty well when the occasion came up and they spent time together. They shared some apparently typically English behaviour patterns, and they had the same cultural background, despite the age difference – that made it easy for them to exchange banter and jokes. She had actually been almost surprised by how witty and zippy Richard could be… not that she wasn't familiar with his deadpan sense of humour, but she understood much better now how much his 'Englishness' was a part of him.

Still… She had seen him interacting with Joey, and there was no hint of gallantry in Richard's behaviour – not like with Megan Talbot back then… or with Julia Higgins whom he honestly had cared about despite the blatant age gap (Camille had found that episode rather disconcerting altogether, also on a personal level – maybe not surprisingly so considering the outcome of it all – despite being a professional, she still had feelings, obviously! - but it had also proved that Richard was capable of deeper feelings than he would let on, so _that_ had been re-assuring) – and he obviously didn't care much about her physical appearance, either – after the initial encounter, he hadn't ogled her at all, and Joey really had worn some striking and 'interesting' outfits over the weeks.

However, none of these outfits had been provocative in the usual sense or even revealing – quite the contrary, Joey often wore longer sleeves and neat polo collars, there were neither bare shoulders or low cut necklines, nor short skirts or really short shorts – but some of her clothes had been in striking colours or eye-catching patterns. And her hairdos, often decorated with scarves, turbans and other frills and trimmings, could be rather imaginative and astounding…

But apparently, she was not interested in 'showing off' her body. In fact it sometimes seemed that she was more trying to hide it than to put it into the foreground – and Camille had noticed that she always was very keen on using one of the showers with a curtain at the gym.

Maybe it was something English to be so easily embarrassed? Although, considering the very frivolous and sometimes too revealing clothes she had seen on English women over the years, she doubted that it had anything to do with being from the UK. It was more likely an individual character trait that both Richard and Joey shared.

For herself, showering in open showers was no big deal – after all, there were only women around, and why would she care if another woman saw her in the nude? But Joey shied away from the open showers – and while Camille had initially been a little surprised by that, she had not given it any further thought – some women preferred the curtained cubicles, and others were like herself and didn't mind either way… She had just accepted it as one of Joey's peculiarities.

In any event… when Richard and Joey had danced that evening, it had been clearly different from the dance she and Richard had shared – they had obviously enjoyed the dance, but it hadn't been 'magical'. They had made idle conversation during the dance, they hadn't been so close, and it obviously hadn't been anything beyond a casual dance between friends – or good acquaintances. She had made a seemingly innocent comment about Richard being a fairly good dancer in a conversation later on to gauge how Joey had felt about being closer to him, and her friend had just shrugged and confirmed that for someone who appeared to be so stuffy at first glance he moved rather swiftly and had a good sense of rhythm. She hadn't avoided the topic, but she had clearly not been interested in talking more extensively about the dance – or about Richard in general – either, so Camille had dropped it.

When she had mentioned the plans for the beachfire next weekend, Joey had happily agreed to come and bring along Andrew – provided he'd get away from his book keeping in time. He tended to be a bit sloppy with his books, and when he finally looked after the accounts, he spent an awful lot of time on correcting and rectifying entries he had messed up before.

Camille was genuinely excited about the forthcoming event – it really should be a lot of fun. She was already making plans about what to bring… She had been a bit surprised that Richard hadn't tried to get out of the whole thing by saying he was busy or nagging around why they just had to choose 'his' beach and pester him on a weekend. But apparently, he had been in one of his more mellow moods…

Having this beachfire would be bittersweet for her, she knew that much… the last time she had done something like that had been with Aimee, shortly before she had been killed. They had sat on the beach, roasted marshmallows and talked about all sorts of things… about school, their dreams and hopes for the future, their disappointments, the memories – the ones they shared as well as individual ones -, the friendships and relationships they had formed… Camille had been close to telling her friend about her feelings for Richard – they had become more intense already than she would have liked them to be! – but then she had got distracted, and the subject had never been touched.

It had been a magical night, and they hadn't gone home before sunrise. It had been a bit like back in their school days when they had gone for beachfires regularly with friends. It had been a cheap way to have fun as you didn't have to buy expensive drinks or food in a bar, you just brought what you had, and there had always been someone around with a guitar and a feeling for rhythm… That night, however, they had been all by themselves…

It was less than a year since Aimee had died, and Camille knew that it would be painful, but it was time to make new memories with new friends – and by linking a new experience to the old 'tradition', she hoped she'd manage to make another step forward in her attempt to cope with the grief. It was not that she thought of Aimee day in, day out - but there were moments when she felt the pain just as sharply and cutting as she had felt it on the day she had lost her. She missed her desperately sometimes… On some days she almost forgot that she wasn't there any more – but on other days, she wanted to ask her for advice, she wanted to tell her about her thoughts and secrets, she wanted to share something funny with her… but then the realisation hit that she would _never_ talk to Aimee again, and she was devastated.

It had become a little better lately – she had Joey now. She would most likely never get as close to Joey as she had been to Aimee – but that wasn't the point. Nobody could replace Aimee – their friendship had been special and unique. That didn't mean she'd never find friends again, obviously – it just meant that this friendship was over and only lived on in her memory. And slowly, but surely, she would develop into a person that Aimee would never know... A somewhat scary thought, but an inevitable fact, nonetheless.

That aside, each relationship was unique and individual – and each relationship had its own character.

She knew that, of course.

Joey's friendship did her good, and although she felt that her new friend wasn't entirely open about all aspects of her life and most likely hid something from her, she knew that Richard had a very valid point – everyone was hiding things from others, for whatever reason, and maybe Joey wanted to forget something that was so hurtful that she couldn't talk about it – Camille could certainly understand that. She had come to Saint Marie to find orientation and maybe start a new life – she had said that much to Camille – and although Camille would have been happy if her friend trusted her enough to tell her about the demons that she was dealing with, she knew that not everyone wanted to talk about what bothered them. Sometimes, you just needed some distance – from your problems, from your old self, from your worries. You couldn't ignore them forever, but distancing oneself was a first step and helped to look at things from a different angle…

She wished she could look at the situation regarding Richard and his indifference from a different angle… She didn't know what to think and what to feel. It wasn't getting any easier with time…

She remembered how he had once said that he considered himself being an open book – he had claimed he had no secrets and wouldn't hide anything… and he really had seemed to believe it! Well, little did he know about how he came across. She had never met anybody who was more reserved and guarded than him. Surely, he must have got hurt in the past…

It made her angry that she had to drink what others had brewed, so-to-speak. It wasn't _her_ fault that he had made nasty or sad experiences – it was unfair that she should have to pay for it.

It didn't occur to her that she actually did the same… she let him pay for all the bad experiences that she had made over the years, too. It didn't occur to her, either, that this was normal – everyone made their decisions – whether they were conscious or instinctive – based on experiences, and sometimes that just wasn't fair on other people because you closed your eyes to their real character and just assumed that a particular trait they had in common with someone who hurt or failed you in the past meant that their entire attitude towards life was identical to the person who disappointed you.

Experiences were helpful, as were prejudices, stereotypes and clichés – they all helped you to make decisions. But it was an illusion to believe they were 'universal truths' – you had to be ready and willing to revise your initial judgement… otherwise you'd miss out on many opportunities, friendships and relationships…

Camille knew all that instinctively, but she didn't put it into context here – she wasn't in a philosophical mood. She was a little frustrated, and there was no room in her head for fundamental pondering about the sense and the meaning of human behaviour patterns.

All she could think of at the moment was Richard and his difficulties to show emotions and feelings. Was he one of those emotionally unavailable people who made you believe there was a world behind their eyes when all they actually had to offer was emptiness? No, that couldn't be. He had feelings, he was human… she had seen him get emotional – admittedly, it hadn't happened often, but often enough to indicate that he wasn't a distant, cold person.

For a moment, she wondered what it would be like if he ever opened up and let her in. But then she shook her head, angry with herself for letting her thoughts take that direction, and in an attempt to distract herself, she took up a cloth to wipe off the surface of a table that had just been vacated…

It was pointless. He'd never get over his reservedness.

And if he ever did, against all odds… would she still be around, or would she have lost patience by then?

She couldn't tell at this point…


	19. Preparations, Plans and Manipulations

Chapter 19 – Preparations, Plans and Manipulations

The week leading up to the beachfire was as uneventful as the preceding weeks at the station. Richard wished that they'd finally get a case that he could dig his teeth into so his mind would be busy and he wouldn't think all the time about Joey's visit, what she had said, and what Camille's reaction might be.

As expected, he found it a little hard to act naturally around Camille – now that he knew she'd soon experience another loss, he was concerned and worried, and he tried to think of a way to make it easier for her. Not that he could do much, anyway… It was agonising to feel so powerless. And it didn't get any easier by seeing how much she was looking forward to the beachfire… she mentioned it a couple of times, made plans with Fidel and Dwayne regarding food and what they'd bring along, and thanked him again for 'hosting' the event – with a twinkle in her eyes that showed him how much she appreciated that he hadn't made a fuss about the whole thing.

He was a little embarrassed, but gave her one of his lopsided half smiles and said defensively "Oh, there's nothing to thank me for. It's a public beach, after all… We just shouldn't be too noisy, you know… someone might call the police otherwise…"

"Oh, as long as you're not going to stick pins into dolls and dance naked around the fire, I don't think we'll go overboard." She raised her eyebrows at him.

He blushed, reminded of how he had once ranted about how they were detectives and didn't believe into voodoo and all the bunkum and balderdash around it… In hindsight, this rant seemed quite funny, even to him, and in an attempt to not let her see his smile, he pursed his lips and said thoughtfully "Oh, if I were you, I wouldn't put any bets on that… you never know, I might surprise you!"

She laughed, and she looked so happy and radiant that he had to literally force himself to take his eyes off her. She had already turned around to ask Fidel something about Juliet's cooking, so she didn't notice – fortunately. He didn't want her to come up with yet another remark about ogling…

Camille was pleased and somewhat amused with his reply. She actually saw his indulgence as a sign that he was trying to loosen up and 'fit in' a little more, and after she had thought about what Dwayne had said, she realised that he had indeed become more lenient towards her – so maybe the older officer had a point with it all, and Richard did indeed care about her… without being aware of it, maybe? She'd find out – hopefully rather sooner than later.

Over the past week – since they had sat together that morning and he had thanked her for her e-mail – the atmosphere between them had been almost harmonious. Of course, she had teased him, and he had given a few pointed replies to her remarks, but she had always made it clear that she was only joking, and his tone hadn't been aggressive, either…

She was happy that things seemed to normalise again between them. She had understood that she had mostly reacted so strongly to his intervention the week before because she had still been confused about the dance they had shared at the party – and about how he had not made any move towards her afterwards, but basically ignored her. What was that supposed to mean? It had bewildered her – and she had concluded that their dance hadn't meant anything to him, after all… so she had felt offended and consequently put up her bristles. Of course, it hadn't helped that she had made negative experiences with people trying to patronise her before, so she had perhaps really been over-sensitive to begin with…

But since they had patched up, everything had been fine between them, so maybe there was some progress – albeit at a snail's pace…

* * *

Around mid-week, Fidel, Dwayne and Richard gathered again at La Kaz. They were waiting for Juliet to show up – and for Camille and Joey to return from their gym class. Catherine brought them a round of drinks. Richard felt reminded of how they had sat here the week before… he hoped this evening would go better altogether than the one last week…

At around 8, Joey and Camille entered the bar. Camille wore a black maxi-dress with a bright multi-coloured floral pattern, Joey was dressed in white capris and a soft light coral blouse with elbow length sleeves, and a light patterned silken scarf was wrapped around her head, like a turban… the basic colour was the same coral shade like her blouse, but there also were hues of light blue and lilac in the pattern. The frilly ends were hanging down her back – it looked rather eccentric, but it suited her.

Catherine – who liked turbans, too - made an admiring remark about the scarf, and Camille agreed on how pretty it looked and asked where she had bought it. Joey said it had been a gift, but she didn't explain further, and Richard saw a hint of melancholy in her eyes so he assumed that a sad or painful memory was maybe connected to it…

Now that he knew Joey's secret, many of his observations seemed to fall into place and make sense somehow. For her sake, he hoped that she'd find happiness with Timmy in the UK. He also was anxious to find out how she'd handle things regarding her forthcoming departure… From what she had said, she had originally planned just to disappear, but after their recent conversation, she had hopefully reconsidered. It would be hard enough for Camille to lose another friend – Joey should not make it more difficult by not explaining her reasons…

Finally, Juliet showed up as well. Her parents were staying with Rosie for the evening, so she had the chance to get out and about a little…

After some snacks and a few drinks, they had outlined a plan for Saturday evening, and Richard had a clearer picture of what to expect. As unlikely as it sounded, he had never been to a beachfire during the two years of his stay on Saint Marie – somehow, it just hadn't happened. But then again, maybe it wasn't all that unlikely – he surely wasn't the epitome of the gregarious, fun-loving Epicurean who'd look out for that sort of adventure, and if anybody had invited him, he would have raised his eyebrows and made a sarcastic remark, stifling any doubt that this kind of activity was far beneath him.

Fidel had already given him an idea with what he had said previously when they had set the date and the time, but now he had a much better notion of what it would be like, and he was almost beginning to look forward to it. It sounded nice – although he would undoubtedly end up with heaps of sand in his shack because everyone would walk in and out to use his bathroom. But he had decided he would not let that spoil the fun… or whatever the evening would bring.

When he had returned to Saint Marie, he had realised that he didn't want to avoid social gatherings any more… Back home, in the UK, he hadn't enjoyed that sort of thing, and out of habit, he had not participated in any events over here, either, when he had been transferred to Saint Marie. But his team had not given up on him, and eventually, after a couple of hiccups along the way, he had learnt to enjoy most of the team's gatherings – or at least to tolerate them, if he wasn't quite in the mood for them…

Camille asked if she could have the Rover so she could bring the food and pick up Joey on the way – Andrew would come later with the company car – and Fidel and Juliet agreed with Dwayne that they would sort something out for transportation. Juliet's parents would look after Rosie, but it wasn't decided yet if they planned to stay at Fidel's and Juliet's place or if Rosie was to come with them to their house – depending on what would happen, they'd make their arrangements.

Joey said to Richard "Lucky you… you won't have to make any arrangements regarding transportation… and you can drink as much as you like as you won't have to worry about the way home…" Before Richard could make a reply, Camille had interjected with arched eyebrows and a little smile "But that also means he can't just sneak off and vanish into thin air when he's fed up with us… and he might end up with all the cleaning…"

The slightly alarmed look on his face made her laugh out loud, and she said reassuringly "Oh, don't worry – I will help you with that! You won't have to deal with it all by yourself…"

Neither Richard nor Camille saw how Joey's eyes darted from one face to the other – had either of them seen her observing them, they would have been alarmed or at least slightly disconcerted… but the way it was, they remained blissfully ignorant.

* * *

It was early on Friday evening, and Camille sat on the patio of her mother's bar, a glass of mango juice in front of her. She was having a moment of peace before the masses would arrive… the bar usually got fairly crowded between 8 and 9, and it wasn't even 7 now. She had left work at 5 and gone to the gym, expecting to see Joey there, but she hadn't showed up. As it sometimes happened that she had to help Andrew at very short notice, Camille didn't worry too much – she figured Joey would join her later at the bar.

But then her phone buzzed and she saw that it was her friend. A little worried, she accepted the call…

"Hey Camille… had dinner already?" Joey asked. "No, but I thought we'd have something here…" Camille responded, a little taken aback. "Listen," Joey said "why don't we go to that restaurant in Sainte Victoire that you mentioned a while ago? 'Chez Sandrine' or something like that? I know it's on very short notice, but I thought it would be nice to have an evening away from the busy-ness of Honoré, just the two of us – what do you think? I can call them and ask if they still have a table for us – I'd really love to go there for a change… I'll let you know, right?"

Fifteen minutes later, the two women were on their way to the restaurant on the other side of Saint Marie. Camille was all for being spontaneous, and while Joey's suggestion had surprised her – as 'Chez Sandrine' was a bit more sophisticated than the places where they usually had food – she was happy to give it a go. She hadn't been to Sainte Victoire in a while, and it would do her good to get away for an evening…

They had a nice table for two in a corner close to the beach, and Camille enjoyed spending some quality time with Joey. They talked and laughed about anything and everything, from food over music to films. Camille's stomach was hurting from all the laughter they shared, and she felt she hadn't had so much fun in a long time…

Dessert arrived, and as Camille tackled her 'tarte à la mangue' (a mango tart – sweet and delicious! Camille loved mango in all variations, so she just had had to try this), Joey took a spoonful of her traditional mousse au chocolat and asked casually "By the way, Camille… you wouldn't perhaps consider going out with Andrew some time?"

Camille nearly choked on her tart and looked at her friend, wide-eyed and surprised. "I'm just asking because he recently mentioned he quite fancies you but doesn't have the courage to ask you out…"

"He said what?" Camille croaked, still trying to regain her composure. Joey repeated patiently "He said he fancies you, but doesn't dare to ask you out. The thing is… he said you're a lot of fun to be with, but seem so independent and somewhat… let me see… he didn't say 'demanding', but I think he used 'sophisticated' or 'high-toned'. And he mentioned 'clever'. Whatever. He said that his usual pick-up lines surely wouldn't work with you, and you'd send him packing with one glance." She laughed gleefully and added "I loved that. He's usually not very self-conscious, but in this case, he sounded almost scared."

Camille's eyes got even wider and she said in amazement "You're kidding me. He's known for being so easy going and smooth that hardly any woman can resist him. I have heard lots of stories about how he's quite the womaniser and hooks up with girls from here, there and everywhere. Maybe not as easily as Dwayne, but he seems fairly on a par with him in that respect! And to answer your question – no, I'm absolutely not interested. It's not because I don't like him – he's nice enough and all, and I'm sure it could be fun to spend an evening with him. However… I don't quite see where we would go from there - I'm not interested in being just another feather in someone's hat, if you get me – been there, done that, didn't like it! - and I'd prefer having an intelligent and meaningful conversation for a change instead of all the inane 'look-at-me-I'm-so-fabulously-successful-and-clever'-chit chat…"

From there, it was only a small step to telling Joey about the bunch of blind dates that Catherine had arranged for Camille a while back. "And you know, I'm just not interested in dating strangers any more. I've met so many people during my undercover operations in France, so many faces, so many names… those blind dates were okay for a while, but eventually, they felt more like work than fun. It took me a while to realise why I didn't enjoy them. I used to think they could be exciting, and I might finally meet the man of my dreams, but the thing is… they just won't work for me because they take place under such… fake circumstances. How can I explain that better? It's… it's that I feel like I'm acting, like I'm playing a role. I mean, all those men were nice, and they made efforts to show themselves at their best. They're playing the role of the charming, chivalrous gentleman – they think this is what I want, so they do their part. So far, so good… And of course, I have to do my part – which is admiring them, reacting to their compliments and fluttering my lashes. I know the game. I'm familiar with it. And I used to enjoy it to a certain extent…"

"Oh… and that has changed?" Joey asked, fully aware of how hypocritical this question was – she knew very well that Camille had lost interest and was now after someone who was completely different and had no clue about what she had just described as 'the game'. She also knew that Camille – despite all her empathy, intuition and insight into human behaviour patterns – just didn't know how to deal with Richard's guarded nature and that his reservedness drove her batty.

Camille had another spoonful of her tart and took her time to reply. When she finally responded, she said slowly "Yes, it has changed… it bores me now… I want more from a man than just… just fun and games. And actually… I'm not really looking to find someone special at the moment, anyway…"

Her mind wandered back to the evening of the Erzulie festival last year – she had been feeling somewhat wary about the blind dates, anyway, but after that, she had not been interested any more altogether, and they had fizzled out shortly afterwards. She had used all sorts of pretexts to discourage Catherine from arranging more dates for her, and eventually, her mother had realised that Camille had been undergoing a change – and that she had to respect this.

She had talked about the whole thing with Aimee back then who had also known why Camille mostly had agreed to the blind dates that Catherine had come up with… It had been mostly because she had felt slightly guilty because her mother had hoped she would have grandchildren some time soon, and she had wanted to give Catherine at least the impression that she was trying to find someone to spend her life with.

But the truth was that – just like she had said to Joey - she wasn't really looking any more. While she had enjoyed spending some time every once in a while with nice men who paid her compliments, it had basically just been another way of passing her time, and she hadn't taken much interest in the men, anyway. Aimee had asked her if she had maybe taken a fancy to someone in particular so the other men had no chance, anyway, and Camille had blushed, saying that she didn't want to talk about it at this point. Aimee had laughed and teased her for being such a mystery monger, but she hadn't probed any deeper. She had known that Camille would open up eventually when the time had come for her to confide in someone. This had never happened, though – Aimee had been killed before Camille had had the chance to open up to her friend.

But Camille didn't want to discuss this with Joey at this point. They were close, but not this close yet. She needed to think about it in quiet and didn't want to talk about it just yet. So she said light-heartedly "I'm afraid Andrew will have to find someone else to go out with. I'm just surprised that he was too scared to ask me personally. Tell me, did he ask you to put out your feelers for him?"

"Oh no…" Joey laughed. "He knows very well that I would have refused to do that. I just wondered, you know… hence I asked."

Then, upon finishing her cappuccino, she said "Now, tell me more about that beachfire – are we going to have marshmallows and all?"

Camille was only too happy to change the subject and go on about their plans for the next evening instead of dwelling on the dangerous topic of meeting the perfect someone, dating and falling in love…


	20. Doubts and Decisions

Chapter 20 – Doubts and Decisions

As she lay in her bed later that evening, Camille replayed the conversation in her head. She still was taken aback that Andrew – who wasn't really known for having self-doubts - would find her too scary to ask her out, but it went right together with what Dwayne had said – that she was maybe coming across as too strong, too independent, too stubborn.

But then again – all that was part of her – why should she deny it? However… if Andrew – who was such a womaniser and playboy – was scared of how she came across… how would someone like Richard – who was generally reserved, guarded, and cautious – perceive her behaviour?

He had seen her gentle side every once in a while, but not very often, she knew that!

Joey's innocent remarks had made her think…

Maybe she really had become too tough and cynical over the past few years. A lot had happened, and she had perhaps hardened with her experiences. She still was compassionate, and she had a soft and romantic side – not in the gushy, kitschy, all-too-obvious manner, but more in a deep, thoughtful way. She wasn't as light-hearted and easy-going as she appeared to be… Not that she was melancholic – no, she enjoyed life, she loved to dance, move and have fun, and she was pragmatic and realistic – otherwise she wouldn't have survived doing undercover work. But she also could be profound and pensive – and she had fears. She had learnt to hide them, but that didn't mean they weren't there…

Camille turned over and rested her head on her arm. She was glad that she had spent the evening with Joey – they had shared so much laughter, she had gained some new insights, and it had made her feel even closer to her friend… She smiled a little as she recalled how Joey had got out of the car with her when they had arrived at her house. She had come around and given her a warm, tight hug, whispering "Thanks for another lovely evening, Camille… I'm so happy we're friends!"

It had been quite a while since anybody had said that to Camille. She realised how much she had missed having 'real' friends. With a happy smile on her face, she switched off the lamp on the nightstand…

Life was good – despite all its flaws.

* * *

It was five o'clock on Saturday afternoon, and Richard's shack almost sparkled with neatness and cleanliness. He had spent the better part of the morning on tidying up – not that he was a dirty slob, but there were a few things he'd rather not have out there in the open for everyone to see – like the tin with jelly babies, the nearly empty bottle of red wine, the pile of science magazines that he had somehow accumulated, or the comfy lightweight trackpants he had started to wear around the house recently – as a 'go-between' for when he felt too warm in his suit but wasn't quite ready to put on pyjamas yet (it hadn't felt 'correct' initially to wear trackpants and a T-shirt, not to mention he had felt some guilt for 'abandoning' his suit that was such a good friend to him and gave him security and confidence - but with time, he had realised that it was a lot more comfortable, and so he had stuck with it. This attire certainly was a little more presentable than his pyjamas – and admittedly a lot less stifling than the suit!).

He had even hidden all his personal things in the bathroom – toothbrush, shaver, hairbrush, literally everything except for the soap dispenser had gone into a container that now resided behind closed doors in the little cabinet under the sink. He knew he was overdoing it, but he just didn't feel comfortable with having it all out there for everyone to look at – not that anybody would be interested, but you never knew, did you…

The others would arrive in about half an hour, so he decided to sit down and have another mug of tea in peace before chaos would set in. He had already changed into dark khaki chinos and an offwhite shirt that he didn't wear to work any longer because it had become scruffy at the cuffs – since he had rolled up the sleeves, nobody would notice. The chinos were a compromise – he knew that his good trousers would suffer if he wore them for the beachfire, and he certainly didn't want that.

As he sat there, sipping his tea, he wondered how this evening would go… He wasn't quite sure if it really was a good idea to consider following Joey's advice and give Camille a clearer sign of his affection…

Of course, a relaxed and casual situation like the beachfire would perhaps be a good setting for making a move, but then again – maybe not? And what _kind_ of move could he make? Wouldn't he make a fool of himself, anyway?

Perhaps it would be safer to wait for a better moment?

He wasn't sure. How could he be _sure_ of something like that? Was there anything like the 'ideal setting' and the 'ideal moment' at all? Didn't they have too much to lose? What if… what if Joey had been mistaken? How could he pull back then without losing face?

Then again, if he didn't go for it, wouldn't he regret it? He already had so many regrets about his life… not that his life was bad, but well, there was no denying that he had missed some chances, simply out of fear…

Fear of failing, fear of succeeding, fear of changing, fear of making a fool of himself…

Well, whatever. He put his mug in the sink and sighed. No, he had absolutely no idea how he could say or do anything that Camille would find acceptable – and that would still enable him to make a graceful retreat if Joey had misjudged the situation and she really wasn't into him at all…

Maybe he should focus on being happy about _little things_ and not reach for the stars.

Little things like a clean house.

He hoped the evening would go well, whatever it would bring.

And as long as there wouldn't be a tonne of sand in his shack later on, he'd be grateful…

* * *

Four hours later, Richard sighed as he saw the trail of sand from the veranda to his bathroom. This was awful… but not quite as bad as he had feared beforehand. Everybody was very cautious, but you couldn't help it – the sand just came in, no matter how careful people were.

Oh well, he'd just have to sweep it out before going to bed. He shuddered at the thought of having to make his way through the sand during the night when he might have to go to the bathroom – no, he'd just take the broom and get rid of it before getting ready for the night…

He had just come in to fetch another round of cold drinks from the fridge. Camille and Joey had brought a dozen bottles of beer, several bottles of white wine and a cartload of soft drinks that they had bought from Catherine – with a discount. The cost would be split between all of them later on, as they had agreed.

Fidel and Juliet had come with a bag containing a mixed assortment of paper plates, napkins and plastic cups that they had saved from various birthday parties, plus a huge cooler full of finger food and snacks, including marshmallows.

Richard had raised his eyebrows at the paper plates – it had seemed a bit weird to him to have his food on a 'Little Mermaid' plate, but Juliet had showed him Fidel's – Shrek's morose face and Donkey's annoying toothy smile had appealed even less to him…

Much to everyone's surprise, Dwayne had showed up in a battered old jeep – he had borrowed it from his neighbour. "Well, I could have brought Louise" – he pointed at his guitar – "in the sidecar, but I would've had to leave the motorbike at the dirt road, anyway, and I felt it would be more convenient by car, so…"

Andrew had arrived later – when all the firewood had been collected, as Joey had pointed out, teasing him mercilessly about his delay. He had taken it with equanimity and just shrugged it off. Richard had observed with some dismay how Andrew's eyes had wandered over to Camille who'd been busy piling up the wood together with Fidel and Juliet, chatting and laughing. He had already noticed that the young electrician had developed a deeper interest for Camille over the past few weeks – he couldn't blame him, but he didn't have to like it, either. Comparing Andrew's athletic frame to his own medium build, he had wondered if he even had a chance 'competing' with him, but then again, if Camille was so superficial that she'd choose looks over brains, then maybe he'd be better off without her attention.

Camille hadn't been aware of any of this. She had just been happy that she could spend some time with friends.

They had found a good place for their fire – not too far out and close – but not _too_ close – to a small grove of palms. There were a couple of logs sitting there, along with big boulders, and obviously they weren't the first ones to light a fire in this place as there already was a circle of stones and some old, burnt remains of pieces of wood. The palm trees gave it a somewhat intimate, sheltered atmosphere, yet it was open to the sea, and they could hear the waves lapping on the beach.

As they had all sat down around the fire, Joey had come to sit on a smaller log next to Camille, and Andrew had had to put up with sitting on the bigger log, next to Juliet and Fidel. Dwayne had sat in the sand, leaning on a big boulder, and Richard had found a place on another log.

In the course of the evening, they had talked and shared anecdotes, looked at the stars, eaten and laughed… The food had been nice and tasty, and Richard had enjoyed it. During the conversation, he had mostly listened and thrown in the occasional remark. Then, Dwayne had picked up 'Louise' and started to play a little, and eventually, he had come up with a few songs – the usual campfire songs that most people were familiar with… but also other things, like 'Father and Son' by Cat Stevens, 'The Boxer' by Simon & Garfunkel and a few other songs that Richard wouldn't have expected. Dwayne had a sonorous voice and a good feeling for rhythm, and he had encouraged everyone to sing with him. Even Richard had found himself humming along every once in a while.

Currently, Dwayne was taking a break, and Richard had taken the opportunity and disappeared for a combined trip to the bathroom and the fridge. When he returned to the little group around the fire and handed out the bottles, Joey made ready to get up, passing him a meaningful glance combined with a little nod in Camille's direction, and said "I guess I'll follow your example, Richard… excuse me, please…" – and disappeared. Before Andrew – who had been trying to find a way to get closer to Camille all evening long - could react and take her place, Richard had sat down next to Camille – who pulled up her skirt obligingly to make room for him, giving him a radiant smile. Her eyes sparkled, and she held out her plastic cup to him to 'clink' glasses.

She was really enjoying this – it had been a good idea to organise this evening. She had been right – linking the old tradition to new memories would help her to get on with her life. And it would surely also help her to get the cobwebs out of her head that had been tormenting her lately. All the losses she had experienced, the loneliness and difficult situations she had gone through before her move back home to the Caribbean, the worries, the pain… it was time to leave this sad chapter behind for good. When she had returned to Saint Marie, she had been so busy with finding her feet, she had pushed all the memories to the side, trying to bury them deep inside and live in the moment… but with Aimee's death less than a year ago, they had come back with a vengeance. On and off, they had bothered her, haunted her, paralysed her.

As a result, she had been moody, she had been unfair, she had been stroppy… it was time to put an end to this. And tonight was the night…

Over the past hours, she had had so much fun – and she was so grateful that everything had turned out so well. Even Richard wasn't as grumpy as she had feared he might be… but then again – he hadn't been grumpy when her mother had organised the English roast dinner for him after he had found out who had killed Delilah Dunham… And he hadn't been grumpy when they had all showed up at his house to celebrate his birthday. He just needed a little nudge from time to time, and as soon as he realised nobody was picking on him or ridiculing him, he could be quite sociable and entertaining.

Actually, he had been quite pleasant over the past few days – since they had e-mailed and talked, the atmosphere between them had definitely eased up.

Maybe their recent blow-up that had caused such a stir had been necessary to pave the way for something bigger than just 'getting along'… She'd see. She'd just have to take it from here…

She had been a little disappointed when he hadn't made any efforts to sit next to her initially – but now he was there, and she was happy.

Could it get any better?

* * *

Over the next ten minutes, Richard tried to overcome his nervousness about sitting so close to Camille. It was silly, wasn't it – they worked together, and they had been much closer when they had danced a few weeks ago – so why was he so flustered? Involuntarily, he was reminded of how they had sat on the beach after Aimee's death – he had _so_ wanted to put his arm around her and pull her close to give her comfort, but he hadn't dared to do so… he hadn't been sure if this gesture had been welcome or not, and so he had just sat beside her…

As he was still lost in his thoughts, Dwayne took up the guitar again, and Joey – who had returned and sat in the sand, leaning on Andrew's knees - asked "Do you know 'If you want to sing out, sing out', Dwayne? It's another Cat Stevens song, so…" Dwayne played a few chords and then found the melody. Joey laughed happily, saying "Oh, I love that – thank you!" – and started to sing along. Fidel took over after the first few lines, and he and Juliet sang the next few lines together. Andrew chimed in and sang the next couple of lines, then it was Camille's turn. She wasn't sure of all the words, but well… she'd just have to hope that she'd remember them all correctly.

Despite not having much hope that he'd join her, she nudged Richard, and much to her surprise, he took the cue and continued with her to the end…

 _Well, if you want to say yes, say yes  
And if you want to say no, say no  
'Cos there's a million ways to go  
You know that there are_

 _And if you want to be me, be me  
And if you want to be you, be you  
'Cos there's a million things to do  
You know that there are_

Dwayne made them all repeat the last verse, and when they reached the end, everyone clapped their hands. Camille gave Richard an appreciative smile and whispered "Thank you – it was nice of you to join in… I wasn't quite sure of the lyrics, so that helped!"

In the meantime, the others had started to come up with wishes for songs, too, and Dwayne was busy fulfilling them. He improvised a little when he wasn't entirely sure, but overall, Richard was surprised at Dwayne's virtuosity. But then – Dwayne was a man of numerous talents…

He felt much better now that he had sang along – it had had a strangely liberating effect, and so he felt free to join in during a few other songs as well. They sang their way through 'Norwegian Wood' by the Beatles and more songs until they finally came to John Denver's 'Country Roads'… When Dwayne sang the line _'And drivin' down the road I get a feelin' that I should have been home yesterday, yesterday'_ , Richard caught Joey's gaze, and he saw the encouragement in her eyes as she looked from him to Camille.

He swallowed hard – he knew what she was thinking: If _she_ could take a chance, make a move and try to find happiness again – _he_ could do the same.

A little defiantly, he thought she was being unfair – after all, she knew that Timmy wanted her… while he had no clue about Camille's feelings for him. All he had was Joey's word that Camille spoke highly of him, that she trusted him, and that she had looked totally enchanted during that particular dance. And his own observations, of course – but he didn't put much trust in those, given his talent to misread other people.

In a way, he felt pressurised, and he didn't like that.

However – wasn't it all about something he actually _wanted_?

It was not about doing Joey a favour. It was about something completely different: He _wanted_ something to change between Camille and himself. Joey's appeals had only given him another good reason.

He realised that tonight was as good as any other time – and it was not like confessing that he was attracted to Camille was a severe hardship. Well, it was – but only because he made everything so complicated. He was well aware of what had held him back all the time, and like earlier, he thought of all his fears…

Fear of failure, mostly, fear of getting hurt, fear of having misunderstood her, fear of – everything. Fear was important as it kept you from doing stupid things. But it could also paralyse you and make you shy away from amazing, wonderful things…

He knew all that…

But the point was – if he wanted Camille, then he would have to show her. As Joey had said, it would all wither away into nothing if he didn't make a move. And no matter how afraid he was of making a fool of himself – he didn't want things to fizzle out before they had even started. He was tired of missing chances. By the same token, he was scared of taking them…

Joan Baez's song 'Where have all the flowers gone' was next, and Richard noticed how Camille sniffled a little. He stole a glance at her and saw her surreptitiously wiping away a tear – and in a sudden flash, he recalled how she had said earlier during the week that she and Aimee had regularly met for beachfires… surely she was thinking of that now. The song kind of fit, too.

Camille was angry with herself – she wanted to be happy, not sad… but she couldn't help it, this had been one of Aimee's favourites… and against her will, the tears began to fall. She tried to hide it, and fortunately, nobody was looking. Why did she never have a tissue when she needed one? She sniffled again, trying to hide her feelings. She didn't want to embarrass anyone with her weepiness…

Suddenly, a neatly folded white handkerchief was furtively slipped into her hand. She took it and wiped away the tears – and much to her surprise, an arm came around her shoulders. When she had regained her composure, she gave Richard a curious sideways glance. He was looking at the fire, his face was completely neutral, maybe even a little tense, but she could feel his reassuring arm around her – he held her shoulder a little too stiffly, maybe, but still… – and with a feeling of relief and comfort, she let go and leant her head on his shoulder.


	21. Observations and Plots

Chapter 21 – Observations and Plots

Joey was very satisfied with how the evening had gone so far. She had known she'd have to haul out the big guns to make Richard understand that it wasn't good to leave things between him and Camille up in the air. Right from the first encounter with them, she had grasped the tension between these two, and the more she had seen, the more she had wanted to bang their heads together.

She understood Richard's fears – he basically was a shy, maybe even timid man, despite his pompous demeanour, and he was clearly not very experienced when it came to reading women. Like everyone, he was afraid of rejection, and when she had heard that he had attended a single-sex boarding school and didn't have any siblings, she had understood him even better. Plus, he had apparently been disappointed, so obviously his years at uni and the time after that hadn't been so great in regard to romantic encounters with women, and that had seriously discouraged him.

Camille's demonstrative independence and strength hadn't helped with that. He was fascinated by her, but her occasional wilfulness, her mercurial temperament and the way she apparently threw herself at life scared him a little – she seemed invincible and beyond his reach. He hadn't expressly said so in their recent conversation, but it had been obvious to Joey that Camille puzzled him, and he struggled to understand her attitude towards life – while it undoubtedly attracted him…

It was ironic that neither of them could see how similar they were in many respects. Granted, they had different ways of handling situations, but they both were ambitious and intelligent, they both didn't show their softer sides very often, and they both were stubborn and fiercely tried to prove that they didn't need other people. And there was more… they both were afraid of getting hurt, they both hid behind a façade, and they both were easily misjudged.

With Richard, most people just saw his meticulousness, paired with his idiosyncrasies and awkwardness, and if he was lucky, his brains were 'registered', too – and with Camille, most people didn't look beyond her pretty face, her athletic, well-shaped figure, her ready smile, and her charisma. Few people took the time to try to look behind Richard's obsessive, abrupt behaviour and realise that Richard was an intelligent, sensitive, lonely man – and fewer people yet understood that Camille wasn't just physically attractive, but also had a sharp mind and a gentle, almost romantic side that she tried to hide so she wouldn't get hurt or ridiculed. Secretly, she wanted to be courted, charmed and 'conquered', no matter how old-fashioned she claimed this was. She was full of contradictions – and that was part of her charms.

Initially, Joey had only enjoyed observing their interaction, but the closer she had got to Camille, the more she had felt her restlessness. She had realised that Camille was seriously attracted to Richard, but just couldn't get around his armour… and she had seen the softness in Richard's eyes when he thought nobody noticed how he was looking at Camille, the insecurity when Camille was teasing him – and his determination not to let on how much he liked her – most likely because he feared it would only complicate his life if he showed his feelings.

She had become closer to Camille than expected, and if it hadn't been for the intense love that she still felt for Timmy, she would have found it very easy to fall for her friend – in a way that Camille most likely wouldn't have welcomed. Not that she was homophobe – she was very tolerant about other people and the way they lived their lives - it was just that she wasn't into girls herself, that was very clear to Joey.

Camille was a lively, spontaneous and witty person, and it was fun to spend time with her, so when she had asked Joey to join her and go to the gym together, it had been easy to tag along, and from there, their friendship had evolved quickly. Still, Joey had felt she shouldn't tell Camille too much about herself – she didn't know how long she would stay on Saint Marie, and she thought it wouldn't be wise to talk too much about her past – after all, she had come here to start over… Initially, Camille had seemed to be a little reserved towards her, but that had soon changed, and she had never pressurised her to open up about things she didn't want to talk about.

Joey also appreciated Richard. He was so English; to her, it was like a ray of sunshine to meet someone who didn't only moan and groan about the UK, but who seriously missed their home country and had phases when he would much rather be there than here on this sunny island. She could certainly relate to that… And she had understood that – being the repressive, reserved Englishman that he was – he found it impossible to show his feelings for Camille.

She had overheard snippets of conversations between Dwayne, Fidel and Juliet during the afternoon at the Bests' house, and it had been obvious that they all knew that Camille had 'a thing' for Richard, but none of them was entirely sure about Richard's feelings. Joey had drawn her own conclusions from what they had said - and how they had said it...

Juliet was perhaps most optimistic of all of them – she had said that Richard wasn't like other men and that he'd need more time. Fidel had nodded in agreement – to him, Richard was a role model in many ways, but he had also seen him struggle in situations that appeared totally easy to everyone else, so he knew that Juliet had a point. However, he couldn't quite see how having more time would make a difference – Richard had been on Saint Marie for over two years now, and it seemed unlikely that he'd ever get round to making a move on Camille if he hadn't done so by now.

It had been interesting to hear Dwayne's point of view - apparently, he could understand the Chief's situation and – to a certain extent – his feelings – or what he thought Richard's feelings _might_ be -, but was pessimistic for him to ever come out of his shell – unless someone gave him a swift kick into the behind. Part of the problem was Camille herself, as Dwayne obviously saw it, as she came across as overpoweringly strong and independent. Dwayne was a ladies' man, and while he didn't really fancy women who were mousy and quiet, he definitely didn't appreciate women who were _too_ opinionated and 'self-sufficient'. In his own words, it was important that his flirts wouldn't latch onto him, but he wasn't fond of what he called 'bra-burners', either (he conveniently ignored that this 'type' of woman usually wasn't interested in him…). - So, his preferences were somewhere in the middle.

He had observed that the Chief usually was attracted to ladies who were a bit 'softer', and Camille's way of poking fun at him and getting all impatient with his mantra of 'following the procedure' didn't really help here. He figured that Richard was terrified of saying or doing something that Camille would perceive as stupid, and he'd lose face. Nobody liked losing face, and the Chief wasn't any exception there…

So, Joey had paid a little more attention to the team's interaction, and she had not only seen how Richard looked at Camille when he thought nobody noticed, she had also felt his frustration when he had stepped in on the scene with the young guys at La Kaz. She had realised quickly that he had only wanted to protect Camille and her, and also, it had been obvious that he had wanted to avoid a racket at Catherine's bar – he knew only too well that negative publicity like that wouldn't help her business. There were plenty of other bars in Honoré, and people were fickle… if rumour spread that Catherine's bar was a place where people got into brawls, La Kaz would suffer, and it would take a while to re-establish the good reputation. Richard knew that Catherine depended on the bar, it was her only source of income, and although he and Camille's mother weren't always on the same page, he cared about her and didn't want her to struggle. It had frustrated him when Camille hadn't understood that he wasn't patronising, but protective. He had tried his best, and she hadn't got it…

When Joey had followed him with the car, she had noticed how defeated he had looked. His entire body had radiated the frustration, the despair, the irritation and the disappointment that he had felt. The way he had literally kicked the dust with his shoes, the way he had clutched his briefcase, the way his shoulders had sagged and his head had been bent… his body language had been more than clear.

She had taken pity on him – she had been the underdog often enough in her life, and while her big mouth had helped in many situations, her bluntness and ready wit hadn't meant she hadn't been hurt. And like most – if not all – people, she also had been rejected and misunderstood by people that she had felt attracted to, and she could relate to his feelings.

It had been then that she had decided to tell him about her situation. For a while she hadn't known whom to turn to, but then she had realised that Richard would be the perfect choice. He could relate to her situation because of his background – she didn't know much about his _personal_ life, but that was not the point here… he was a consummate _professional_ , he could listen, and he was sharp minded. He _seemed_ very much a black-or-white person, but that didn't mean he couldn't see or understand the various shades in between. She had listened to him talking about closed cases, and she had noticed that he had looked at situations from all possible angles, so he was capable of seeing nuances. He felt strongly about good and evil, right and wrong – but he didn't claim to be morally superior. And – last, but not least - he wasn't easily shocked. The last thing she needed in this situation was someone who'd cringe about her story, start to cry, or shower her with an overdose of pity. Not to mention give her a moral lecture…

All these scenarios were highly unlikely with Richard. She needed advice, not pity – and although Richard was compassionate, he was also solution-oriented, so she had known that he wouldn't offer useless platitudes. If he had no advice to offer, he would say so – but he would not play any games with her.

When the unexpected packet from her aunt had arrived and she had realised that it contained a letter from Timmy, she had been shocked and unsure what to expect, but once she had read it, she had known immediately that there was nothing else she could do but return to her. What else could she do? She loved her, after all, and knowing that Timmy loved her and wanted her back in her life had been all she had needed to know. Their subsequent Skype conversations had been almost heart-breaking… Timmy had been as wonderful as ever, and their feelings for each other still were going strong. So, it really was a no-brainer for her – she'd go back to be with Timmy and re-build her life with her.

But that meant she'd have to leave Saint Marie – that in itself wasn't the problem. She wasn't overly attached to the island, although she quite enjoyed life here in general. Once that she had got accustomed to the climate, all had been well.

Nor was Andrew an issue – he was family, and he'd always be there for her and help when she needed him. He wouldn't make a song and a dance about her leaving, he had never presumed she had come to Saint Marie to stay. Her presence had helped with his business, but he'd get by on his own, too – after all, he had managed very well without her for several years before.

The problem was that she'd have to leave Camille – who had become so important to her and had admitted between the lines – when they had touched the subject of Aimee's death in a conversation - that getting abandoned (again) was her greatest fear… She didn't want to hurt Camille – it would be cruel to do that. Camille had trusted her enough to let her into her life, and she couldn't possibly betray her like that and abandon her… But what should she do?

Once she had spoken to Richard, she had realised that it would be entirely wrong and utterly selfish to handle the situation the way she had hoped she could… by disappearing and letting him explain everything to Camille. He hadn't given her any direct advice, but uttered a few suggestions, and she had realised that this was all she could expect from him – he would never say anything like "do this" or "try that" – he hated being told what to do himself, so he wouldn't come up with anything like that towards others.

So, without knowing what exactly she'd do, she had promised him to find another way – and after some thinking and mulling over the different options, she had finally come up with something that she thought might work…

Joey had spent a big part of Friday afternoon on writing a long, long letter to Camille. It had been hard, but it had been the only thing she could do. She didn't want to talk about it once again. It had done her good to talk to Richard because he had just listened neutrally. It wouldn't be that way with Camille, she knew that. So, it had to be a letter… Writing it all down was painful, but at least she didn't have to deal with an immediate reaction that way.

She hadn't gone into detail about the assault that she and Timmy had gone through, but she had provided enough information to give her an idea about how serious it had been and how it had happened that both she and Timmy had spent several months in hospital. She had explained how Timmy's family had taken control and how she – Joey – had been pushed out of Timmy's life – and how Timmy had found her and that they wanted to start over together. She had also explained that she didn't know where they would be going from here – where they would live, whether or not they would stay in the UK, and how things would develop in general… - but that she'd always value Camille's friendship and the sense of belonging she had given her on Saint Marie.

She had left the letter unfinished – she had wanted to see how the beachfire would go and add the final touch over the following days… Finally, she had called Camille to arrange the evening out together… It had been her reward for the hard work she had put into her letter, plus she had wanted to see if she could take a little influence on her friend, so she had cunningly made a casual remark about Andrew fancying Camille, but being too afraid to ask her out (which was the truth – Andrew had said so to her). That had been supposed to make her understand that she could indeed come across as a bit scary and to make her be more aware of her behaviour… apparently, Camille had no idea of how self-assured and dominant she appeared to be… It had clearly made her think – and Joey had been fairly pleased with herself. Maybe it would help and pave the way for Richard?

She'd never be a Machiavelli, but at least, Camille had got a bit shaken up. Joey had felt a bit guilty for being so manipulative, but didn't they say that everything was allowed in war and in love?

Tonight, she had also made a conscious effort to keep Andrew away from Camille, and much to her relief that had worked out. He hadn't mentioned that he wanted to approach her, but Joey knew her cousin well enough. He wasn't really on the look-out for anything permanent, but would take what he could get… Going out with Camille for a while surely wouldn't be any hardship for him. So, if nobody hindered him, he would try to find a way to get near Camille and rely on the sound of the waves and the generally 'romantic' atmosphere of the setting near the ocean, the singing, joking and talking… So, Joey had made sure that she had come to sit next to her friend and Andrew had to sit somewhere else. She certainly hadn't wanted him to interfere with her plans.

It had become a bit uncomfortable after some time because she had had a little too much to drink, so a trip to the bathroom had seemed to be the most desirable thing in the world for a while, but she had forced herself not to get up before the right moment had come – Richard had to be there to take her place so he and Camille could sit together… she had hoped that things would develop from there without further intervention.

And her plan had worked out… With satisfaction, she had noticed how Richard had put his arm around Camille's shoulder and how she had leant on him… there was hope for them, after all… Now she'd only have to find a way to persuade everyone to leave these two alone later on.

Well, she'd see what she could do…


	22. Getting Closer

Chapter 22 – Getting Closer

It was close to midnight, and Camille was throwing the last paper plates into a big black trash bag. The flames of the fire had almost died, but there were still a few glowing logs sitting around. She'd have to see later on if it was necessary to extinguish the fire with sand or if it could be left alone…

She was a bit annoyed with how everyone had disappeared over the past half hour. None of them had stayed to help with cleaning up!

At first, Juliet had yawned extensively, and when she had dozed off on Fidel's shoulder a few minutes later, he had decided it was time to leave. Dwayne had packed up 'Louise' and said that if they wanted him to have a voice on Monday, he'd better go and get some rest now.

Andrew hadn't seemed quite ready to leave yet, but Joey had dutifully reminded him of a meeting with a potential client on the next day – he had agreed to meet with him on Sunday because the client had been away for a while and was on a tight schedule with another flight ahead to the US on Monday evening – so he had got up with a groan and said "Right, little cousin… but you'll have to drive me home as I'm clearly not fit for driving a car any more at this point…"

Joey had nodded, and they had made their goodbyes. Andrew had then gone ahead to the car without further ado, but Joey had hugged a slightly reluctant Richard and thanked him for the evening, and then she had also hugged Camille and whispered "I'll call you tomorrow afternoon, okay?" Then she had run after Andrew who had already started the car and was waiting for her to jump in.

With a last hooting of the horn, they had disappeared in the darkness, and Camille had been alone with Richard. They had stood there, slightly embarrassed as they noticed there was nobody around any more, and after a moment of silence, she had said – seemingly light-heartedly – "Well, I promised to help cleaning up, so I guess we should get on with it now, huh?"

He had gone to the shack and come back with some big trash bags, a plastic container for the recyclable bottles and a small basket that he had put next to the log where they had sat for most of the evening. Together, they had started to collect the rubbish. When Camille had stood up and straightened her back after stooping and bending over, he had come to help her tie up the trash bag and put it to the side. They both had sighed with relief and then laughed in unison.

As their laughter ebbed off, Camille suddenly was acutely aware of the sound of the waves lapping on the beach and the soft 'swish-swash' of the palm fronds, swaying in the breeze, the warmth of the still glowing fire and the fact that she was completely alone with Richard.

She expected him to make an awkward remark and shoo her to the Rover so he could get his beauty sleep as quickly as possible, but he surprised her by saying "Now, this wasn't too bad, was it? Mind if we sit here a bit longer and have some wine together to round off the evening? I brought one of the chilled bottles and two proper glasses, so we can – er… I mean, unless you want to go home straight away…"

She shook her head and said "No, not at all… it's lovely out here, isn't it?" In amazement, she saw him taking one of the blankets they had sat on and spreading it out in the sand, right in front of one of the bigger logs, close to the fire. "That way, we'll have some sort of backrest," he explained. "I don't know about you, but my back is killing me…"

They sat down on the blanket (that was faintly smelling of insect repellent, like everything else around - including themselves... they had re-applied the spray several times over the evening), side by side, and Richard grabbed the bottle from the small basket he had brought and poured her a glass of white wine, apologising for bringing only water glasses: "More stable, you know, but still nicer than plastic cups… at least we can clink properly with these!"

For a while, they just sat in the semi-darkness, in silence, sipping their wine. Camille pulled up her feet under her skirt and finally said "You know what, this was the nicest evening I've had in a while."

Richard looked at her exquisite profile in the half-shadow and responded thoughtfully "Was it? I was under the impression that you were a bit sad in between."

She hesitated, then turned her head and admitted "Yes, I was, and thank you for helping me out of that."

Her gaze was so intense that he had to look away, and he mumbled something unintelligible, along the lines that he hadn't done anything special, but she interrupted him by saying "Don't say it was nothing. It was… it was exactly what I needed..."

He looked up in disbelief, and she continued "You know, this all reminded me of Aimee – I had known in advance that it would be a bittersweet evening for me in some respects, but it wasn't as painful as I had thought it might be. At one point, though… That Joan Baez song had always been one of Aimee's favourites, and the memory got overwhelming."

She sniffled again and reached for the handkerchief he had given her earlier - she had tucked it away in a small pouch on the inside of her skirt's waistband. A little angrily, she blew her nose and then muttered, annoyed with herself "Oh, what a crybaby I am tonight…"

She wiped away a few more tears, and when she spoke to him again, her voice was a little unsteady. She said "It's hard to lose friends, you know, no matter what the reason might be. And death is… well, so _final_. But wallowing in misery and pain doesn't bring them back. I may not always be very good at showing it, but I'm grateful that I have other friends in my life who care about me. Thanks for… thanks for being one of them, Richard…"

Now it was her turn to look down on her hands, as if she felt uncomfortable with her emotional behaviour. He'd surely feel embarrassed now! She waited for him to make a flippant, dismissive remark, but much to her surprise, his arm came around her shoulder again, and he pulled her closer – a little awkwardly, but with determination. It felt good... and she leant on him, as she had done before tonight... fighting the sudden desire to cuddle up to him.

Softly, he asked "Do you remember how we were stranded in the weather lab not so long ago, Camille?"

She nodded, unable to look up.

"Well," he continued, "you said to me that you like it when I'm human."

She gave a faint snort and said "That wasn't very nice of me, huh? I remember I called you pompous and 'grandiose' before that, didn't I?"

He said "Yes, you did - but that's not my point. My point is that you indicated that there's nothing wrong with showing one's feelings. Excellent advice – that you should follow yourself, too. I mean… you're so determined to show everyone how independent and strong you are. You _are_ all that – just like I may have my moments of being pompous and grandiose… perhaps… sometimes… rarely… if ever… – but you're also sensitive, fragile and vulnerable. _Human_ , you know. And… and I quite like it when you let that show…"

"Oh… you do?" she managed to say almost inaudibly. "Yes," he whispered, and his free hand gently touched her cheek to make her turn her head and look at him. He had moved without thinking. When he realised what he had done, his heart began to beat like a drum, and for a moment he was frightened he might have made a mistake…

But then, her big brown eyes, brimming with unshed tears, met his. Something like affection and encouragement seemed to shimmer there… and he couldn't help himself – he just had to close the gap and kiss her.

For a moment he wondered if he was doing this the _right_ way… It had been a _very_ long time since he had tried anything like that (not that he had really come that far more than just a few times), and anxiously he waited for her reaction, almost sure she would flinch from his touch or push him away, as a few other women had done before.

But that didn't happen.

Just when he was about to pull back, ready to mumble an apology, he felt her responding to his kiss – _and she pulled him closer_.

Then, he felt how one of her hands touched his face, caressed the nape of his neck, and then stroked his shoulder. Without interrupting the kiss, she moved to his lap, sitting sideways, so he could hold her tighter, and her soft lips opened under his. The tip of her tongue came out and touched his lips, and it encouraged him to follow suit and let his tongue explore her mouth. He was shy at first, but her reaction was clearly encouraging, and after a few moments, he forgot his worries, and his kiss got more passionate.

When they finally broke for air, she looked at him in astonishment and said softly "Wow…" before resting her head on his shoulder. Her hand was on his chest, burning a hole into his shirt, as it seemed to him. Then, it moved to the shirt's placket, and with deft fingers, she flipped the top buttons open so she could let her hand slide inside. He felt emboldened to take further action, too, and while he was holding her with one arm, he gingerly began to caress her with his free hand. He didn't know what to say, but he figured that maybe this wasn't the time for talking, anyway…

She shifted a little, and her lips found his again in another ardent kiss. His heart was pounding, and he was prepared for stopping his actions at any given moment, determined not to do anything she didn't want at this point. But she didn't object when he pulled her closer, and eventually he got a little bolder. His hand slipped under her long skirt and stroked her bare leg, with slow, rhythmic, circular movements, and her breath hitched as she felt him touching her knee, then her thigh… His hand was trembling a little, but he didn't let this stop him from moving it further up, furtively touching her backside, brushing the seams of her knickers…

Suddenly, she gently slipped down, pulling him with her and stretching out on the blanket. Her voice hoarse with longing, she whispered "Hold me, Richard… please… just a little bit closer…"

He looked at her face, torn between his desire to follow her and his sense of propriety and asked "Here? Are you sure?"

She laughed softly and replied "Why not? We're alone, nobody has come by all evening long, and there's nothing indecent about a little cuddling on a blanket, is there?"

He couldn't really object to this – she was right, nobody had been on the beach apart from their little group all evening long, despite it being a weekend… and a little cuddling could surely do no harm… This was so good, he didn't want it to end…

So he grabbed another blanket, folded it and rolled it up into a cushion and put it under her head, then he settled next to her so they were face to face. She moved closer to him so he could take her in his arms… Feeling his insecurity, she began to nuzzle his neck, eager to make him feel more comfortable so he'd kiss her again. She wanted to know what it was like to be held by him, to be closer to him…

She was determined not to let this chance go by – tonight was a turning point in their relationship…

He had completely taken her by surprise with his actions – she hadn't thought he'd ever get over his inhibitions and take the initiative. And she felt that he was still insecure – they'd have to take this slowly…

But it was clear that he wanted _something_ , and she was ready for taking their 'friendship' to another level, too…

For long moments, they just lay there in silence, looking at one another, touching and kissing each other – rather chastely, almost tentatively, trying to figure out how far they wanted to go. Richard was a little unsure about where _exactly_ this was heading, but he couldn't stop himself – he had secretly been longing for something like this to happen for so long, and he wasn't superhuman… it was just too much of a temptation… she was so soft, so sweet… and stopping now would be awkward, wouldn't it… so he continued, always concerned she might back out and rebuff him.

But she didn't move away when he pulled her a little closer, and when she felt his hands tenderly roaming over her back, she breathed "That feels so good…"

His lips touched her neck, and he murmured "Really… does it? I wasn't sure you'd… let me touch you… like this, I mean…"

A soft little laugh was her response, and then she whispered "I didn't complain when we danced at Fidel's… I could have gone on forever like that…"

"Then… why did you…"

Her reply came in a very low voice, her tone was almost bashful. "What? Behave like a complete idiot? Because I was befuddled… I didn't want you to know how much I enjoyed it… and then I was hurt because you didn't seem to notice how much it meant to me… I was confused…"

"I was… confused, too," he admitted – and pulled her a little closer yet…

His lips were on her face now, moving to her closed eyes, then to her mouth. His tongue explored her lips, then the kiss deepened, and Camille's enthusiastic response encouraged him to proceed further – he wondered for an instant just _how much_ further she'd let him go – and if he felt comfortable with going further at all - but any coherent thought was extinguished the moment she moaned into his mouth, weaving her fingers into his hair and arching her back so he could hold her even closer.

It was like he was in a dream and would wake up any moment – but before that happened, he wanted to glory in the situation, so he let his hands slip under her top to feel some bare skin. Was there a rule for how to do this? He had no idea – he'd have to improvise, obviously… One of his hands wandered up, lightly skimming her breast on the way, taking a little detour and brushing a hardening nipple… no bra hampered his exploration, and much to his delight she let out a long sigh of pleasure – immediately, he got bolder, cupping her breast with his palm, kneading it gently, brushing the areola with his thumb and then rolling the pointed nipple between his thumb and forefinger for a moment. Her response was a little squeak of surprise, and he stopped immediately, whispering slightly worried "Have I… have I hurt you?"

"No," she whispered back, "not at all… this is… oh, don't stop, please!" His hand caressed her bare back now, her top was rucked up under her arms, his lips moved down to her breast, and he kissed the soft tissue that he had just touched a moment ago… she sighed happily.

His other hand went down, tugged at the elastic waistband of her skirt, slipped beneath and roamed over her backside. She bent her leg a little so he could come closer, and his grip got firmer, his embrace got tighter; instinctively, he pressed his body against hers, and she could feel how much he wanted her…

This felt so good, so _right_ – she never wanted this to stop. And he obviously enjoyed it, too…

Neither of them was rushing it… After what seemed like a blissful eternity of kissing, fondling and caressing one another, however, she sighed again, and before he knew what was happening, she softly pushed him away and sat up. In a moment of confusion, he tried to figure out what he had done wrong and sat up, too, awkwardly coming to his knees - but then he realised she was actually removing her top and wriggling out of her skirt.

In the silvery moonlight, he saw her naked torso for an instant, her silken skin, her perfect small breasts with the hard peaks… then she was kneeling in front of him, only wearing black lacy knickers now, facing him and deftly unbuttoning his shirt, hastily pulling the tails out of his trousers and exposing his chest. Her fingers were roaming over the bare skin of his sides, then over his stomach, and his breath hitched.

Suddenly, he was afraid of what could happen any moment now… it had been a long time since he had 'been with a woman' in whatever way… so, how would it all go? They had long surpassed the point where they could return, he knew that…

And he didn't want to return – but at the same time, he didn't quite know what he wanted and he was completely unsure of what she'd expect from him…

"How smooth your skin is," she whispered, caressing him with tender hands. Then, she pressed herself against him once more, and he felt her erect nipples on his chest, hard and pointed like fingertips. They kissed again, more and more passionately, and he thought he might die if he had to rein in his desire for much longer… At the same time, it didn't seem appropriate to do all this out in the open, on a public beach.

Somehow, though, he didn't have the energy to think about this, feel guilty, be scared or worry… there was no time for doubts, either, as they were falling back on the blanket together - he was too engaged in caressing her, kissing her again and again, tasting her mouth, burying his face in her hair, revelling in her unique scent, letting his hands slip into her panties, feeling her damp curls against his fingers, probing deeper, gently exploring the hot, slick softness that he found there, registering her quickening breath and the keening sound she made as he touched her so intimately, trying to find out what she liked, feeling her delicate small hands and her tender lips on his skin, listening to the sound of her soft sighs and moans…

This was wonderful… and he wanted her so much…

However, he felt he had to make an effort and give her a choice… he didn't want her to feel that she had to…

"Camille…" - he whispered with the last little bit of willpower as he felt her hands fumbling at his belt, struggling with the fly button, and then tackling the zipper with determination - "are you… are you certain you want this?"

A moment later, he inhaled sharply – resolutely, she had opened his trousers and slid her hand into his underpants, stroking and caressing him. He gasped, half delighted, half shocked, instinctively shifting and pushing a little to savour the sudden thrill of her touch… and Camille finally answered, her voice husky now with unveiled lust "You _bet_ I am… and there's no way I could stop now – could you?"

"No… no… I… I couldn't… _Oh-oh-oh!_ " He drew in another long shuddering breath before he spoke again, "Camille… I haven't… I mean… what if…"

He never got round to finishing his sentence…


	23. The Morning After

Chapter 23 – The Morning After

Late on Sunday morning, Camille slowly woke up. She cuddled into the pillow and tried to go back to sleep, but to no avail… This mattress was killing her! How on earth Richard managed to survive sleeping in this bed was a miracle to her. No wonder that his back was aching! She'd have to see if she could get a better mattress for him – and, come to think of it, for herself… considering that she wanted to spend some more time with him in this bed in the future...

Gingerly, she turned over to look at him while he was sleeping. How light his skin was in comparison to hers… many parts of his body obviously had never encountered the sun in his entire life. Well, at least _some_ had been kissed by the moon last night.

At that thought, her lips curved in a little smile… She remembered how they had talked about the beachfire before, and how he had said something like "I might surprise you!" She doubted that he had had _this_ on his mind when he had made his flippant remark... but yes, he had indeed surprised her!

Was this really the buttoned-up Englishman that she had known for over two years? He certainly looked different to her today… she had seen him fairly relaxed before, but he was completely unbound and loose now as he lay there, sleeping peacefully.

Closing her eyes again for a moment, she remembered the enthusiasm that he had shown last night…

How eager he had been to draw it out and make it a special, unforgettable experience – he hadn't done anything 'unusual', but everything had been done with such devotion and ardour… His kisses had been deep and slow, the soft tenderness of his hands and lips had set her on fire, and the way he had taken his time to touch, caress and explore her until she had been more than ready to lose herself in her desire had been inexpressibly amazing. She shivered at the memory of his fingers stroking her, his mouth taking possession of hers…

It had been heaven!

He hadn't rushed anything, no, he had taken it really, really slowly. _Nobody_ had ever done it that way before… and if she had ever imagined anything 'happening' between them, it hadn't been like this at all… She wasn't sure what she might have expected, but surely not this slow and deliberate act…

She had felt his arousal, and when she had touched him, his breath had quickened and got ragged, but he had not simply given in to it, keen on just finding satisfaction himself – he had followed her little non-verbal hints, taken care of her and drawn it all out, kissing her all over, eager to explore and please her with his hands and lips… until she couldn't wait any longer and had prompted him to take the last step. She had felt she'd die from her desire if he didn't come to her, and she had wanted nothing more than finally feel _him_ – not only his hands or his mouth. The longing to be with him had been overwhelming, and when they had become one, he had been gentle and careful, yet passionate. Nothing about his lovemaking had been rough or coarse, he had handled her with care, paying attention to her reactions and making her feel valued and cherished. It had been out of this world…

How had they come this far? How had it happened? What had _finally_ made him approach her at all? His initial kiss had been a revelation – shy at first, but so tender, so loving… and so unequivocally full of longing…

It had been impossible for her to resist.

Not that she had tried – she had wanted this so much for so long…

It had kind of built up over hours, she realised this now. He had been so attentive towards her over the entire evening… And then… how sweet it had been that he had tried to comfort her when she had felt sad – and how nice of him to say that he liked it when she was vulnerable and fragile… She hadn't expected to hear him say anything like that to her. Yet, it had happened… And the way he had looked at her…

She hadn't tried to provoke him in any way or had any hidden agenda yesterday night… The truth was that she had felt so out of balance that she just couldn't have done anything else but show her feelings. There hadn't been any room for strategies or tactics. They both had let go and dropped the masks they usually wore around others.

And the outcome had been just amazing… Who would have thought that he'd forget his inhibitions so thoroughly that he'd give in and make love to her outside on the beach? Not only once, but _twice_ … though the second time hadn't been slow at all, quite the opposite, in fact…

She was still glowing with bliss now… this truly had been 'making love', not just 'having sex'… He really had feelings for her. He had wanted her to enjoy this, he had not just been keen on fulfilling his own desire. And he wasn't the type for one night stands, she was sure about that. So – she was hopeful for the future.

He stirred a little. As she didn't want to disturb his sleep, she quietly got up and went to the bathroom to take a shower…

* * *

Richard woke up to the sound of a closing door, then he heard water running – ah, the shower! But what…?

A little confused, he struggled to open his eyes. Still half asleep, he scratched an itching spot on his thigh - one of those pesky mosquito bites that he'd never get used to... it was apparently fairly fresh. He realised that he didn't wear his pyjamas, just his boxers – that seemed strange. Then his gaze fell on the bundle of clothes on the nearby wicker chair. A long floating garment was on top - a skirt? -, he saw one sleeve of his shirt, and a huge black trash bag was sitting next to the chair.

Suddenly, he was fully awake, and his eyes widened in shock as he remembered the last night… and he turned scarlet in a flush as the memories washed over him. His face burnt with… well, what was it? Horror? Frenzy? Shame? Embarrassment? Panic? Whatever it was, he felt he was breaking out in a sweat.

Had he _really_ made love to Camille on a blanket out on the beach?

Yes, he had – and not only once. No, it had happened actually _twice_.

Now, that was outrageous… and as far as he was concerned, totally unheard of…

He must have been insane. Crazy. Out of his mind.

How utterly improper and uncivilised… And how unlike him to completely forget about everything around him… He couldn't even blame it on the wine. He definitely hadn't been drunk – he still remembered every little detail about it… and he also remembered that it had felt so _right_ to do what he had done… and that everything had felt so _good_ what she had done…

Well, if it had been insanity, it hadn't only been him who had been affected – she had clearly encouraged him, she had instigated it all with her reaction to his kiss. He hadn't meant it to be the start of something… something like _this_ …

He bit his lip, closed his eyes again and pulled up the sheet to his nose as if he wanted to become invisible under it, and he couldn't help it – he was utterly shocked by his behaviour… He had broken every rule… What had come over him? Had he gone mad?

But then he realised that no matter how much he was telling himself that they had done something absolutely shameless and morally reprehensible – they had done it _together_ , and he couldn't deny that it had been wonderful… and that he had felt a kind of ecstasy – not only physically… it had been more than that! - that he hadn't experienced before in his life.

No, it had _never_ been like this before…

It was impossible to feel guilty, given the circumstances…

He didn't want to think about what might have happened if they had got 'caught' – it _hadn't_ happened, after all, so why worry now… His beach was very remote, and even during tourist season, he was usually all by himself there. He was glad now that they hadn't gone inside after having collected the trash – he never would have found the courage to approach her if they had done so…

The first time had been amazing – a long, slow, and almost playful build-up had taken all his worries and doubts away, it had been wonderful to touch and hold her, feeling her hands and lips on his skin… Initially, he had been shy, but her reactions had made him more confident after a little while, and his self-consciousness had diminished – until it had finally disappeared.

He realised that he had felt _safe_ with her. He had needed time, and there hadn't been any pressure…

He hadn't been in a hurry, and she hadn't rushed him. Quite the opposite - never before had a woman let him feel, touch and explore like that… and she had _liked_ it… she had whispered encouraging words, her voice had been throaty with desire, and her sighs and moans had been unmistakable. She had _wanted_ this. She had wanted _him_. She had not scoffed at his initial insecurity, at his slowness and deliberation – she had emboldened him to go ahead, but not pushed him out of his comfort zone.

He had savoured the tenderness and intimacy – he wasn't used to being touched, and he hadn't touched anyone in a long time. Although he knew that he wasn't dashing, sexy and staggeringly handsome… she had shown him that she saw him as desirable, loveable and attractive.

He had been worried there'd be pressure to move ahead faster than he'd feel comfortable with. But it took time to get used to the feeling of having someone get so close to you… At least that was how he felt, and he was thankful for Camille's patience with him.

Then, all of a sudden, though, things had got out of hand and they hadn't been able to control themselves any longer. What had started out so gently, almost innocently, had climaxed in a passionate union that had nearly been too heavenly to be true. He remembered how they hadn't been able to stop touching and caressing one another, how smooth her skin had felt under his hands, how his skin had prickled under the touch of her fingers and lips, how good she had tasted, how resolutely - yet gently - she had stroked and stimulated him… how ready she had been for him, how she had moaned when he had finally sunk into her, deeper and deeper, how they had moved together in sync, how the waves of their desire had clashed, united and lifted them higher and higher before they had finally got sucked into a whirlpool of lust together… how she had panted and gasped his name, how he had buried his face in her neck and muffled his ecstatic moans by kissing her madly…

Afterwards, Camille had retrieved another blanket from one of the nearby logs, and they had wordlessly cuddled up to one another under it. It had been warm – it didn't cool down at night over here in the Caribbean - but there had also been a slight draft in the air, and their bodies had been covered in sweat, so the blanket had been welcome. Richard couldn't pinpoint how long it had taken them to finally drift off, but eventually, they had fallen asleep – in each other's arms. They had tried to fight it because holding, touching and fondling each other had been so wonderful, even after they had made love and found fulfilment.

The second time had been totally different – but no less wonderful. It had happened in the early morning hours. Richard reckoned it might have been at around 5 a.m. since it still had been dark. He had woken up because he had felt a little cold – Camille had stolen most of the blanket. Wasn't that just typical… Slightly irritated, he had tried to get at least a little part of it back so he could cover himself, but to no avail. She had rolled over and taken all of the blanket with her. He had moved closer to her again, trying to get under the blanket – successfully, this time. She had turned over and snuggled up to him, murmuring something in French.

The way she had pressed her body against his had made it absolutely impossible for him to go back to sleep. He hadn't been able to keep his hands to himself, and within seconds, they had both been wide awake, kissing and caressing each other with feverish hands and lips - and almost wild passion. Camille had wrapped one of her long legs around him, impatiently pulling him closer towards her and clearly encouraging – no, _urging!_ \- him to make love to her once more… and he hadn't been able to resist her. Not that he had seriously tried, if he was entirely honest… he had wanted her too badly, and she had been more than ready for him… again. This time, there hadn't been any build-up, finesse, or deliberation… It had been fast and furious – and they had reached their finish together, quickly and breathlessly.

Later on, they had lay there, exhausted and full of endorphins, and finally Camille had suggested packing up and changing the venue – so they had covered themselves up – (you couldn't really say that they had got dressed, considering that Camille had only worn her knickers and her top and he had just put on his underpants and trousers. Everything else had been thrown on top of the recyclable glass bottles – he had brought out a container for those…) and gone inside where they had basically dropped everything, got out of their clothes and fallen into bed. That was how they had ended up here together... He had taken her in his arms, and they had fallen asleep quickly, tired and spent.

He knew he'd never forget this night – no matter what would happen. And he hoped that _a lot more_ would happen between them (though hopefully not on the beach again… it had been amazing, but for the future, he would rather prefer a proper bed in a room with a door that they could close…) – she was the woman he wanted. He had never been so sure about anything in his life. And it seemed that she wanted him, too… This had been so much more than finding release and quick sexual fulfilment – he was sure about this. This had been about being in tune with one another, about affection, trust and respect, about… yes, about _love_.

Joey had been right. Camille cared about him. Not that he really had any idea why she would, but she really did. This couldn't mean anything else… Gratitude washed over him – gratitude for having taken Joey's advice that making a move would be the right thing to do…

He remembered how he hadn't known what _kind_ of move to make – well, considering his previous cluelessness, he had come up with something quite staggering in the end…

He chuckled a little and shook his head in disbelief – who would have thought _this_ would come out of what had started as a perfectly harmless kiss? When they had sat down together after having cleaned up the mess of the beachfire, he had thought that if he was lucky, he'd manage to express his sentiments to her without becoming entangled in confusion and embarrassment - and maybe, just _maybe_ get a little taste of her lips, but wow – his expectations definitely had been overtaken by reality! Considering his usual lack of success when it came to communication with women, he had done impressively well this time… at least it seemed so to him! He hoped she had seen it the same way!

Richard had just about finished his musings when the door opened and Camille emerged from the bathroom. She had wrapped a big towel around her body. When she saw that he was awake, she smiled a little shyly and said apprehensively "Good morning… I thought it's time to get up, so… I hope you don't mind I took a shower?"

Richard blinked, sat up, and said awkwardly with a nervous smile "Um… no, not at all… good idea… Actually… I guess I'll do the same now…"

His voice trailed off. He felt 'nervy' and didn't know how to behave in this unfamiliar situation.

Everything had been so easy between them last night, but now it seemed they were both embarrassed… He noticed that her eyes were cast down now… Was it the infamous 'morning after blues'?

A dreadful feeling of inadequacy suddenly welled up and made him almost choke. Had he misinterpreted the situation? Hadn't it been good enough for her? Had he disappointed her? Did she regret what had happened between them? Would she get dressed and sneak off while he was showering?

He looked at her, a little helplessly, unsure about what to say next. Was there some sort of code, etiquette or _procedure_ for this? If so, he wasn't familiar with it – so he didn't say anything, out of fear to say something wrong. For a moment, her gaze met his, and she suddenly seemed to understand.

She turned around so he wouldn't see the tears that were now stinging in her eyes. The pain was almost too much for her.

Everything had seemed so wonderful, so perfect, so amazing… and now _this_ … It was obvious that he wanted her to leave and didn't know how to say it… She had totally misjudged the situation last night… he had only been 'friendly', and she had interpreted too much into the whole thing and made him go further than he had wanted. And now… now he had regrets.

It had all been her mistake… once again, she had put trust into someone who hadn't deserved it… Oh, what a mess this was!

She squared her shoulders, grabbed her clothes and said, seemingly indifferently and matter-of-factly "Yes, right… Don't worry, it's time for me to go home, anyway, so I'll be gone in a second…"

"Camille…"

He watched her, hastily putting on her top and her skirt, angling for her sandals… He didn't understand what was going on.

"Oh, don't bother… I know what you're going to say… it was all a terrible mistake and…"

Her voice was thick with emotion and hardly veiled hurt now.

Deafening silence was the response.

Why didn't he say anything? Couldn't he at least try being polite?

She couldn't act any more as if she didn't care. She turned around angrily and blurted out "I wish I had known that you are like all the others… I thought you were _different_. I… I trusted you… my mistake, I guess. I thought I knew you, that it was more than just… I thought you seriously wanted me \- and all… all that I _am_ \- not just my body… as a trophy or whatever, but well… seems I was mistaken. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have thought that… that you… I hope you had fun, at least. _Alors_ … It will not happen again, I promise you that… And I'll ask for a transfer rightaway on _lundi_ … oh, _merde_ … I mean… Monday, so you can… so you won't have to see me any more…"

And before he could think of a reply, she had turned away from him and made ready to leave.


	24. Clarification

Chapter 24 - Clarification

She wanted to get out of here, and quickly…

However, the door was stuck for some reason, and despite Camille's furious rattling, it didn't open. She wasn't sure if it was locked or just jammed - but whatever it was, the door wouldn't give in, so she couldn't get away from him, from the shame she felt, from the humiliation, from the stabbing pain in her heart...

For a moment, Richard was dumbfounded. However, the door's reluctance to open was his chance: Her fierce but futile attempts gave Richard enough time to break away from his numbness, jump up and hurry to her. He wasn't quite sure what was driving him, but he felt that he _had_ to move - and quickly! - or she'd be gone, and he'd lost her!

The ephemeral thought about his appearance crossed his mind, but well, he was covered, and that was the main thing – his underpants would have to do, appropriate or not.

Fiercely, he grabbed her arm and made her turn around. She tried to shake off his hand, but his grip was firm, and he didn't let go. His eyes were dark with concern, panic and a certain kind of fear she couldn't quite figure out. Moments later, she had given up fighting him off – it was a pointless and undignified situation, but she had said what she had wanted to say, and although she wasn't in the mood for 'fair-play', she should perhaps give him a chance and hear him out, too… although, what could he say?

Awkwardness, stammered excuses, him pussying around and trying to 'put things into perspective' - that would have been what she'd half-expected from him in a situation like this - but no, that didn't happen. She was in for a surprise - Richard didn't wriggle like a worm, trying to appease her.

Not at all.

Instead, he hissed testily "What do you mean, I'd say that it was a terrible mistake? Do you really believe what you're saying there? What makes you think this is how I feel? Don't you know me any better?"

There was anger, consternation, dismay, and - maybe most importantly - unconcealed hurt in his voice.

She stared at him for a moment, completely thrown off the rails by his unexpected reaction, before she finally opened her mouth to say something.

"Well, isn't it… that you regret it and didn't know how to… how to say somewhat nicely that you wanted me to go? Isn't that what you feel? I thought… you might be embarrassed…" she explained hesitantly, her voice trembling, her eyes wide and filled with tears.

She hated herself for not being more in control.

"No," he exclaimed, desperate to bring his point across. "No, it isn't… Why would I… I mean, I'm not… Oh, for crying out loud… Didn't you feel that I… Good grief, Camille – what on earth…"

He reached out to her with his other hand and gently pulled her towards him. Warily, she came a little closer, waiting for him to say more. She felt the anger dissipating, transforming into a mix of insecurity and a vague feeling of hope. Her head was reeling. Had she over-reacted? Had she misunderstood his silence? She had been prepared for self-consciousness, for awkwardness, but not for silence. She had interpreted it as rejection, as a sign of regret… had she been too hasty in her judgement?

He closed his eyes for a moment, grateful that she didn't fight him off and run away. He knew well enough that she was strong and fit, and her claim that she could beat him in a fistfight wasn't pure boasting, it was rather a realistic estimate.

He was confused; incoherent fragments of thoughts were spinning around in his head - but he needed to find words now. He knew he had to get it right the first time.

He had to make her understand that he truly meant what he said, that he wasn't just coming up with standard phrases, platitudes and clichés…

Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus, rationalise and look at it as a 'case' he had to attend to. That always worked best for him.

When he opened his eyes to look at her again, there was tenderness in his gaze, along with a hint of shyness and something that almost looked like fear, and while he was settling his hands on her shoulders and drawing small semi-circles with his thumb on her soft skin without being aware of doing so, he said hoarsely "Look, Camille… I don't want you to go. Please… stay with me… I'm sorry if I made you think I didn't… this is just so unreal, and I…"

His voice faltered. Good grief, this was so hard! He looked at her and hoped she'd understand and say something to make it easier for him. But she remained silent and apparently was on her guard.

So, he tried again and said with a sigh "You know, when you came in from the bathroom... I didn't know what to say. Usually, I only have lizards and free range chickens roaming around in my house, not to mention weird bugs. I've learnt to deal with _those_ somehow, but I have absolutely no practice when it comes to women… I've never had any in my house before, you know! Not… not like _this_ , I mean!"

He gave her a crooked smile, and she sniffled a little, eyeing him slightly suspiciously, but her eyes showed him that she was curious to hear more.

He paused, letting his hands slide down her arms, loosely holding her wrists and slowly pulling her a tiny little bit closer towards him. She let it happen, but didn't actively respond. Still, it was enough to encourage him.

So, he continued – slightly less desperate now - "Remember how… how I once said it's hard to be eloquent when you really care for someone… You know me by now, don't you? You know I'm not very good at all that social skills stuff. But that doesn't make my feelings less real. Look at me, Camille…"

He squeezed her hands and made her look at his face, right into his eyes. She wasn't so unresponsive any more now and returned the light squeeze, biting her bottom lip. But she still didn't say anything.

Richard sighed again and said "Well, I hadn't planned this, and if I had, it wouldn't have worked out. I never thought this could happen. I had hoped… we could have some wine together and talk a little, and maybe you'd look at me differently when I'd make an attempt at loosening up and being a bit more… relaxed. That was all I wanted… I know very well that I'm not as impressive… or _formidable_ … as a lot of your other admirers… I mean… I thought you'd laugh at me. Or… well, that you'd send me packing – nicely, hopefully, but still... You always seemed so… so out of my league, and I – I was terrified we'd lose what we had if I made a move… because I'm not… well, I'm not very good at 'playing the game'. If I ever knew how to play it, I've forgotten it long ago."

Camille frowned and said a little taken aback "What is this about? Are you _apologising_?"

Richard sighed. "No, I'm not, I'm just trying to _explain_ what happened… Will you… will you _please_ hear me out?"

She nodded, and he continued "Look, I'm over 40. I'm as old as the hills, compared to you. For as long as I can remember, I've had a solitary life. I've always been by myself. I've had my routines. It's been okay like that until… well, until I discovered that I… that you… Well… until it was not okay any more! Still… I don't think I would have… I would have made a move unless…"

He knew he sounded stupid when he saw the look on her face. His usual logic seemed to fail him completely. With a little twinkle in her eyes, she tilted her head to one side, and an almost invisible smile began to curve her lips.

More encouraged now, he went on to explain "I'm… well, I'm not an expert in all these interpersonal things, as you know only too well. You… you puzzle me, and I never seem to know what you'll say or do next. It has taken me over a year to muster up the courage to put my arm around you, and when you didn't tell me to go to blazes when I approached you last night, I was dumbfounded. We… we seemed to disagree and fight so often, and then we had that fall-out recently, and I thought that's the end… then we patched up, and I gathered new hope… Still, I know I'm not the most dashing fellow, and I kind of expected that you'd… you'd push me away, and instead, you showed me that my… attempts weren't unwelcome, and that you actually… um… oh well! You know… You were so… so soft, so docile, so compliant… so sweet!"

She glanced at him, disbelieving her ears – was he really saying this? This almost flowery choice of words didn't sound like his usual sober self at all… he sounded quite emotional!

An emotional Richard – that was new!

Suddenly, she was _very_ keen on hearing more of this, and he didn't disappoint her.

Encouraged by the hardly visible smile that began to show around the corners of her mouth and the way she kept her head tilted to one side, he continued "You're… you're _wonderful_ when you're strong and independent and all that, but your vulnerability adds another dimension. And somehow, I couldn't… I couldn't resist, I just had to try and tell you… how much you mean to me… I didn't know how, though, and you were so… so confusingly close… so I… well, you know... And what we did… it was everything I could have wished for… and _much_ _more_ than that. Oh, Camille – what more can I say? I don't want it to _end_ here. I… I want it to _begin_. I simply wasn't sure how you'd feel, so I didn't know how to react when I just saw you now. I mean… you never know. I'm overwhelmed with… er… what happened… but it all could have been one-sided, a 'heat of the moment' kind of thing... and so I thought… I thought you might have regrets, and I was terrified you'd say…"

He let go of her hands, suddenly realising he was still holding them. He didn't know how to finish his sentence. But it wasn't necessary to say more; Camille understood now. She moved closer, put her arms around his neck and whispered "It wasn't one-sided. It was very much mutual, as you must have noticed… and I've wanted it to happen for a while, if I'm honest… Last night, I felt for the first time that you… that you were _interested_ , you've always been so aloof before… and suddenly, everything seemed so easy… so perfect. But when you didn't say anything this morning… It was just – you were so quiet when I came back from the bathroom, and I suddenly had doubts and thought you might… feel differently and would want to be rid of me… and that's why… well, I didn't want you to think I'd be a millstone around your neck…"

Her hands were in his hair for a moment, then she started to stroke the nape of his neck and his shoulders, and he shivered under her touch. It took him a moment to pull himself up and regain control. This was not the time for another outbreak of passion… no matter how tempting her tenderness was! He knew it would be easy to give in and get carried away again, but that wouldn't solve the issue looming between them.

A little awkwardly, he wiped away the tears from her face and smiled fondly. "Never, Camille… I'd never want to be rid of you. I'm happy that you're here with me. Didn't you know that I came back from the UK because of you?"

She smiled a little wobbly and said "No, I didn't. I thought you came back because of your lizard!"

"Oh yes, absolutely. Harry was the other main reason… but it's _you_ who's on top of my list," he assured her, hugging her tightly once more, and then asked, trying to sound casual, "So, are you going to stay for breakfast, after all?"

She nodded, and he gave her another quick embrace. "Let me take that shower and get shaved now, and then we'll have some food", he whispered in her ear. She buried her face in his neck for a moment and squeezed him tightly before stepping back and letting him go.

As Richard stood under the shower, anxiously scanning the walls of the cubicle for potential intruders of the arachnid or insectile species, he realised that while he was happy and relieved that their misunderstanding had been cleared, they'd have to overcome quite a few obstacles along the way if they wanted their relationship to succeed. They both were scarred from their experiences, they carried emotional baggage, and soon enough, Camille would have to deal with yet another blow…

But although he wasn't experienced with relationships, he knew one thing for sure: he was determined to do his best, and hopefully, it would be good enough. It wouldn't always be easy. No, actually, it would be terribly difficult sometimes. However… it should all be worth it. Now he'd just have to convince Camille that he wasn't fickle and wouldn't back out…

* * *

Camille left him after breakfast, not without promising to spend the evening with him. She would have to do chores at home in the afternoon, but she'd come back for dinner, and they'd talk more then.

Left to his own devices, he thought back to how the morning had gone and how they had eliminated their initial misunderstanding. He hoped this mutual misapprehension wasn't an omen for this new stage of their relationship…

It had been a stellar example of how he notoriously managed to make a situation worse by just not reacting quickly enough or by making assumptions. To him, it had been entirely clear that he hadn't made his move on a whim, but that he had spent a lot of time on overthinking and agonising over the situation with Camille, and he had known that once he'd be ready, he'd go for it and wouldn't back out. He hadn't realised that Camille would perhaps need confirmation for this – he had figured that the moment he'd finally touch her she'd know that he was serious. He had kind of forgotten that his inner struggle had been entirely invisible to her and that she couldn't possibly read his mind. How self-absorbed of him…

To him, the only aspect with a huge question mark had been… how would she react? Would she see this as a one night stand (which would hurt him… but it wouldn't be the first time that a woman was disappointed with him, so he would survive and move on… it would make working with her awkward, particularly since he felt so much more for her than just physical attraction – but given some time, they'd get over it), or would she be serious about it, too?

When she had come out of the bathroom, he had misread her unusual shyness – he had never really seen her being shy, so he had interpreted it as awkwardness and embarrassment, as a sign that she was inwardly cringing about what had happened between them and that she would rather leave and forget about the whole thing. He had been hurt – much, much more than he had expected – and he hadn't known what to say. Like him, she had jumped to conclusions and interpreted his behaviour the same way as he had interpreted hers, and the drama had gone on from there.

After he had finally found his voice again and made it clear to her that he wanted her to stay – forever, if that was what she wanted – she had made him hold her tightly, and she had shed a few more tears and explained that she had been worried he might not want her. She had only reluctantly let go of him when he had indicated he needed to take a shower… as if he'd vanish into thin air.

They had had breakfast together after he had taken his shower and got dressed, and they had talked a bit about how they'd go about from here – they were both a little insecure about what would come next, but it was clear now that they both wanted this to last. Camille had confessed to him that she had thought he didn't care for her, and he had admitted that while he had indeed tried very hard not to care for her, it had not worked out, and he felt that they just had to give this a try.

It had been a bit of an odd, initially almost awkward conversation, although they had eased up eventually. It had certainly helped when Richard had followed a sudden inspiration and taken her in his arms again. He had held her and whispered "No worries, Camille… I won't change my mind about that. Now my problem is how to keep you interested and entertained… and how to avoid serious arguments and misunderstandings. I've been by myself for so long, I might not always be as… as forthcoming as you would like me to be. Given our respective temperaments, it might all be somewhat challenging, but I promise you… I'll do my best. You'll just have to remind me every once in a while."

She had giggled and promised to kick him in the behind in case of need. Apparently, her spirits had lifted again. For some weird reason, she had been worried that he might not be serious about a relationship, and she had been afraid it all had just been a one night stand.

It had surprised Richard how unconfident she had come across. It wasn't unusual that _he_ was tongue-tied and insecure, but _she_ had always appeared so strong and invincible to him. So, this all was a clear sign of how emotionally unbalanced she currently was, and he was even more worried now how she'd manage to deal with Joey's announcement that she'd leave soon – and all the other possible confessions that might go along with it.

He knew that Joey had promised to call her in the afternoon – Camille had casually mentioned it to him. She had also said that whatever she'd do, she'd inform him once she'd be sure about her plans.

Richard's heart had been heavy for a moment. He couldn't help but feel concerned for her. Things would definitely not turn out the way she was envisioning them at the moment.

But there was no way around it – Joey would leave, and Camille would have to cope with it.


	25. Reflections

Chapter 25 - Reflections

Joey's call came at around 4 p.m. She had tried to bring herself to calling earlier, but she just hadn't had the courage. Calling Camille and asking her for a get-together would mean getting the goodbye scenario started…

Camille sounded laid-back and relaxed on the phone, and when they talked, Joey sensed that _something_ had happened between her and Richard the night before…

Her friend didn't say anything, but when Joey apologised a little hypocritically for disappearing and not helping with the cleaning, Camille laughed softly and said "Oh, don't worry… Richard and I managed rather well on our own…"

It was the way she said it that made Joey conclude that the Inspector had indeed made his move. And apparently, the outcome had been very much to Camille's liking!

She was pleased with how her plotting had worked out. Of course, she couldn't have foreseen that Juliet would be tired and fall asleep on Fidel's shoulder, but she had taken advantage of this situation. Everything had fallen into place as the Bests had left and Dwayne had packed up… it had taken a little more effort to make Andrew understand that it was time to go, but eventually he had given in. On the way home, he had been a little subdued, and when Joey had asked him if he had enjoyed the evening, he had answered slightly dejectedly that he had hoped things to turn out differently, but all in all, it had been a fun evening. Joey had concluded that he had realised after all that Camille wasn't interested in him, and although he seemed crestfallen for the moment, she also knew that it was only his pride that had been hurt. His ego had received a bit of a blow, but other than that, he was fine – and she knew he'd file the whole thing under 'experiences' and find another flirt soon enough.

She was happy for Camille and Richard. And she was relieved because she didn't have to feel bad for leaving the island and having been so secretive about her own situation. But the worst part of it all still was ahead of her… she had to tell Camille that she was leaving soon. She wasn't looking forward to this.

"I'm sorry, but we can't meet tonight," she heard Camille saying then. "Originally, I had thought we could, but I have – er – I mean... something else has come up, unexpectedly and kind of... out of nowhere. But we could get together tomorrow evening and have a bite to eat together at least – what do you think?"

Joey tried to hide the relief that she felt from having another day of 'reprieve' when she answered. Her voice sounded cheerful as she said "I just wanted to suggest the same thing. Any idea where? To be honest, I'd like somewhere quiet – not your mother's bar… No offence meant, but you know how noisy it can get there…"

Camille silently agreed – she wanted to tell Joey about what had happened… well, not in detail, but she should know that _something_ had changed between Richard and her and that maybe, depending on how things would develop, she would have a little less time for Joey from now on. Not that she'd dump her – she certainly wasn't like that! - and she saw Richard regularly at work, anyway, not to mention that they had always spent time together after work, too – but she'd surely be at his place more often in the evenings from now on, and they would want to spend time together on weekends now, too. Or at least she _hoped_ they would...

However, she wasn't quite ready to talk about her budding relationship with Richard at La Kaz where there was a good chance someone might overhear it and tip off her mother that she and her boss were an 'item' now. So, she pondered the idea and said thoughtfully "Well, there is a beach bar a little further down the beach not far from where Richard lives… we could have some food there, if you like – they have standard stuff, nothing too outrageous. They have a nice patio, and we would be close to the ocean as well… And we could easily walk over to the spot where we sat yesterday night, if you'd like to do that… That way, we'll have some time together, just you and me, and we could talk a little… What do you think?"

Joey figured that would be the best option, so she agreed. They wouldn't have to drive very far, that was a bonus, and it wouldn't be as crowded as Catherine's bar. Camille had mentioned that mostly locals came to the beach bar and that while it usually was busy, it wasn't 'hip' or an 'in-place'.

No matter how she looked at it – it would be difficult to talk about her forthcoming departure. She'd just have to play happy-go-lucky during their stay at the beach bar and maybe disclose her news to Camille on the beach then. That way, Richard could step in fairly promptly…

She knew she was being a coward, but she just couldn't help it. She knew that Camille was temperamental, and her reaction could be anything, from crying over being happy for her or getting insanely furious. She just couldn't predict which of all that was the most likely reaction…

* * *

Richard put down his phone and looked around. He'd have to sweep out the sand – it had found its way into his shack again. It was like fighting against windmills, he knew that, but he just couldn't tolerate having sand in his living space. Sand belonged to the beach, not in his house…

Camille had just called to ask how he was doing and if their plans to get together were still a deal. They had agreed on her coming round to see him at around 7, and they'd have food together… She'd bring something from her mother's bar. So, that was set – he was glad they wouldn't have to cook in his small kitchenette. It was a very basic kitchen, and he figured Camille might not find it satisfactory for her standards. She had a fairly fancy kitchen in her flat, and of course, she was used to having all sorts of pots, pans and dishes in the house while he just had the bare necessities. It was good enough for him, but she certainly wouldn't be happy with it.

She had told him about Joey's call and that they'd get together on Monday evening. "We might go and sit on the logs on your beach later on," she had said. "I hope you won't mind – but it's such a peaceful place, and I… I'd rather sit there and talk in private than in a bar. You never know who'll overhear your conversation there."

He had been surprised by her remark – why would he mind if they sat there and talked? She had explained "Well, I don't want you to think I'm spying on you, you know. Or expecting you to sit around and wait for me. I mean… if you're at home and you'd feel up for a little chat, I might pop in later. But if you have other plans, then that's fine – I don't want you to get the impression that I – that I want you to be 'available' around the clock, you know…"

With a frown, he had realised that most likely she'd feel the need to drop by after her conversation with Joey… He just hoped she wouldn't feel too hurt. And he hoped Joey wouldn't disclose rightaway that she had told him the entire story before – Camille might not take that lightly… He wanted to tell her himself, if necessary.

'Heavens – let me find the right words to help and support her…' he thought. He had no idea how that would go, though. He knew that he had absolutely no talent in giving others support. It had been so hard for him to express his feelings when Camille had grieved over Aimee, and he still cringed at how she had said he had no idea of what she was going through because he had no friends. She had taken that back afterwards, but it had stung – more so because it had been the truth. And he remembered only too well how Joey had remarked that his professionally objective way of looking at things perhaps wasn't always useful or welcome in an emotionally challenging situation.

But then he decided to focus on the good things – she'd come round tonight, and they'd have some quality time together. He loved his solitude and needed alone time, but he enjoyed having good company, too. A book or a TV show couldn't satisfy his longing for that. And Harry didn't really count when it came to the kind of company that he had been aching for – he had more or less successfully managed to repress these feelings, but that hadn't extinguished them altogether. He was fed up with being on his own all the time. Being alone didn't necessarily equal being lonely, but all too often the two had coincided for him… and although he hardly admitted it to himself, he had known perfectly well all the time whose company he was craving for...

He hoped sincerely that the days (and nights) of loneliness belonged to the past for him from now on…

* * *

Camille smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she put on some make up and did her hair. She felt peaceful now – the way Richard had held her this morning after breakfast and assured her that he'd do everything to make their new relationship work had set her mind to rest. He had made an effort to explain his behaviour, and that had been exactly what she had needed.

She knew what it was that drew her towards him: He was real. He was reliable. He would not lead her on... He might have his flaws, but he would not betray her or let her down.

She felt a little embarrassed now because of her extreme reaction to his lack of communication when she first had come out of the bathroom – she had totally misinterpreted it. After the emotional roller coaster she had been on over the past few weeks, this had been the final straw to break the camel's back… she had felt disappointed, tainted, hurt – and foolish and naïve for having been so trustful.

Of course, these feelings had welled up because of past experiences… she had been hurt before, and for an instant, she had been transported back to the moment when she had decided that she needed to start over and promised herself that she'd never ever let anybody get too close to her any more. Well, that last part obviously hadn't worked out… _Fortunately_ , come to think of it now…

She had recalled how she had been sitting at the small table of her kitchen, in the flat that had been rented for her in a suburb of Lyons, counting her money and sorting out her documents. She had been feeling empty, tired and exhausted – but also determined not to let the current situation defeat her. She had certainly learnt her lesson from what had happened…

She had been there for half a year… and fortunately, the operation she had been part of had come to an end a little over a week ago – she had acted as a go-between for information and messages as well as a supporting observer. The job in itself had mostly been routine work and not very exciting, but she had enjoyed getting to know the city and its surroundings, and she had known it wouldn't be forever… A few days prior to this day, she had been called back to the headquarter in Paris, and she'd have to pack up and leave the next morning.

 _Good for her…_

The few months in Lyons had been emotionally taxing for her. During her stay there she had met someone – and while it had been amazing and wonderful at first, it had developed into a bit of a nightmare later on…

Camille sighed as she picked a set of dangly golden earrings and a matching necklace. Maybe she should tell Richard about all this so he'd understand her better. She had kept this all inside for so long, though, that she wasn't sure whether or not she really wanted to talk about it. By the same token, how could she expect Richard to trust her if she didn't show him that she trusted him, too? Didn't she owe it to him? Wasn't openness a requirement when you started something new?

But wouldn't it scare him away? Then again, why would it – everybody made disconcerting experiences in their life. He surely was no exception. Hadn't he asked her if there weren't chapters in her life she didn't want to read out loud? That question had implied that he had his secrets, too, and had been disappointed in life. She already knew he hadn't had a happy childhood, and his time in Croydon hadn't been roses and unicorns, either.

So, why not tell him? Dwayne had warned her that nobody wanted to be with Wonder Woman, and Richard had said he liked her when she was _human_ , so…

Well, she'd think about it. For the moment, she had to hurry up, though – she was already running slightly late. She had told Catherine she'd be there at around 6.30, and it was already a few minutes past that…

With determination, she put on the necklace, fixed the earrings and made ready to go.

* * *

"So, did you have a fun evening at the beach?" Catherine asked with pointed casualty as she wrapped up the food she had saved in the oven for Camille. She had the feeling that her daughter was a bit less restless today, and she wondered if whatever had happened last night at the beach fire had contributed to her inner balance.

Camille's lips curved in a smile and she said warmly "Oh yes, Maman, I did." Then she added, trying to sound entirely 'normal', "Ah – could you please add a bit more, say, like… a second portion? Separately, if possible?"

Catherine raised her eyebrows and remarked teasingly "Oh, I see… you think you'll be still hungry after one portion. Didn't you get enough food yesterday night? Or is that a meal for two people? For you and _Joey_ , maybe?"

She said that with a twinkle in her eyes, and Camille knew that Catherine was fully aware of the fact that the food was not for Joey – and that something was 'going on', as she liked to put it.

For a moment, she hesitated – should she perhaps come out and tell her mother? But then she decided against it. It was too early, and she had to discuss it with Richard beforehand… so she said pleadingly "Maman! I'll tell you all about it eventually, but for the moment…"

She fidgeted a little, and Catherine couldn't help but raise her eyebrows.

"Oh, no worries," she said, handing Camille a bag that contained two little boxes with food, "I can wait. If you haven't noticed, I have waited for over two years to hear what's been bugging you… to no avail, as I might mention. I'm not dumb, and if you think I didn't feel that something has happened in France that has thrown you off the rails, you're sorely mistaken. I reckon that has kind of resurfaced lately, for whatever reason. But it's your life, and if you don't want to talk about it, then that's okay. It's the same now, though I hope it's something that makes you happy, not something that makes you sad. I really just want you to be happy, you know…"

She patted her daughter's arm and said "There you go, _mon coeur_. Enjoy your meal, and remember to tell me some time whom you shared it with…"

She smiled at Camille's slightly sheepish expression and nodded briefly. "Run. You don't want this to get cold!"

Camille kissed her mother on the cheek and whispered "You're the best… I promise, you'll get to hear more about it soon…"

She didn't see the slightly wistful look on Catherine's face as she watched her leave. It was only too obvious that something important had happened last night, and Catherine had an idea what that might have been and whom it had involved…

It hadn't been what she had had in mind for her daughter, but well, if it was what Camille wanted, then so be it. And maybe it would be just right for her. Wasn't it a bit presumptuous of her to assume she'd know what was right for her daughter? After all, not even a single one of the men she had matched her up with had been able to hold Camille's attention, so she obviously felt that none of them could fulfil the needs she had.

Catherine had always thought Camille wanted to have someone light-hearted, someone to have fun with… but apparently her idea of fun wasn't quite what it had appeared to be.

Memories of bygone conversations came up… discussions with Camille when she had been a teenager, slowly becoming a young adult… discussions about fairness, about justice, about good and evil, about morals… Camille had always been keen on probing, getting to the bottom of things, investigating, trying to understand how people were 'wired'. That seemed like a stark contrast to her happy-go-lucky attitude, but both sides were part of her, and Camille's strong love for intellectual discourse sometimes had driven Catherine batty.

When Camille had returned from France, she had seemed a bit more ready to 'accept' things… but Catherine now understood that this pensive, analytical, intellectual side still was very much a part of her daughter, and obviously, she had never found anyone who was compatible with her in that respect.

Well, considering all this, things would perhaps pan out much better than anticipated, she mused.

She began to hum a little melody, had a look at her tea supplies and made a mental note of checking out a few more English recipes in her cook books…


	26. Explanations

Chapter 26 - Explanations

Richard was just taking out plates and cutlery when he heard the Rover stop on the beach.

He had changed into clean dark blue chinos and a light blue shirt. Not very original, but he liked this outfit, and he hadn't wanted to greet Camille in his 'slobby' old T-shirt and trackpants.

As always, he had wanted to look decent and neat. When he had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, he had stopped dead for a moment, suddenly wondering why he was always so ultra-correct when it came to his clothes. Particularly tonight it seemed a little silly, considering that Camille had seen him in his pyjamas before, in his underpants this morning, and (shockingly enough) even _without_ _clothes_ last night – it hadn't been a full moon, but the waning moon had been light enough… Considering his light skin, there hadn't been any way he could have hidden anything from her. Not that this thought had even crossed his mind last night… the things that had happened between them had made his usual self-consciousness completely disappear.

He had blushed at the memory of how she had pawed at his shirt last night, how her caressing hands had slid down his ribcage and pulled out the tails of his shirt, how she had undressed him, how he had finally forgotten where they were… good gracious, they must have been insane. What if an innocent night bird had walked by and basically tripped over them? He didn't even want to think about it…

With slightly shaking hands, he had continued rolling up his sleeves. This new situation really floored him, as he had to admit. He wondered if Camille felt the same way. He knew that she had been on an emotional roller coaster lately, and he just hoped that they'd get used to this new level of their relationship rather sooner than later.

He had just set the table when Camille entered the shack, the bag with food in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other. "Well," she said, "here I am…", setting the food and the wine down on the sideboard next to the door. Richard welcomed her with a shy little smile – the truth was that he didn't know what to say or do. This was becoming a bit of a pattern, as it seemed…

After a few seconds, he pulled himself together, though, and approached her, wanting to kiss her, but feeling a little unsure of how to behave in this situation and wondering if he should perhaps only kiss her on the cheek – although he'd rather do something bolder and more intimate. But how? Everything was so new, and he was so inexperienced with all this. He didn't want to come across as too demanding, too audacious – but not as indecisive and half-hearted, either.

Camille was a bit nervous, too, and she also sensed his insecurity. She turned her head on an impulse, wanting to say something reassuring to him, and his lips landed on her mouth – that resolved Richard's dilemma nicely. After a short startling moment of surprise, he put his arms around her and kissed her, and much to his delight, her response was encouragingly ardent.

After a little while, they broke for air, and he said gently "Welcome back, Camille…" She laughed, and the tension dissipated. Camille's warm reaction had broken the ice, and Richard realised that he had been overthinking once again. He really should try to overcome this habit…

* * *

They had gone outside after dinner to sit on the veranda and finish their wine.

Dinner had been delicious, and Richard had praised the food. Camille had mentioned that her mother seemed to have a hunch about their budding relationship, and much to her surprise, Richard had just shrugged and said – albeit a little stiffly - that he hoped she wouldn't try to interfere. She had expected him to get a little more panicky, but no… he'd seemed to be rather cool about it. He had noticed her surprise and sighed. "You know, Camille, it's pointless to worry about your mother's reaction. I know she can make my life fairly miserable, but why would she do this?"

He had taken her hand and continued "Seriously, you're old enough to run your own life, and over all the years of your absence, she has had time to get used to you being a grown-up woman. She might be your mother, but she also knows that she can't stop you from going your own way. She'll much rather support you, no matter how sceptical she is. She's loyal, and she wants the best for you. She might not think I am what she considers 'best' for you, but she also knows that she'll drive you away if she speaks ill of me and does me down."

Camille had considered his point of view and nodded slowly. "You may be right," she had admitted. Then she had suggested to take the bottle and sit outside.

Richard stood by the balustrade of the veranda, leaning on one of the posts and looking at Camille who had plopped on the stairs, kicked off her sandals and buried her toes in the sand. She wore a long black skirt and a black strappy top, a bright red hairband held back her curls, and she looked wonderful. Then again, she always looked wonderful to him. She had also looked wonderful to him this morning – with her tear stained face, the slightly puffy eyes and the confused expression on her face.

They both were silent for a few minutes. Finally, Camille said with a little smile "It's good to be here. So peaceful just to sit here in the darkness, listening to the sound of the waves… Did you know that I came here during your stay in the UK and sat on these stairs for a while every evening?"

Richard raised his eyebrows and said "Well, you fed Harry, but I thought you did that earlier when the sun still was out?"

She looked at him now and said "Yes, that's right. But I came back again when it was dark, just to sit here and think about all sorts of stuff. I felt closer to you when I was here. Somehow that helped me to believe that you would come back. I wasn't so sure about that, you know…"

Before he could put in a word, she continued "You seemed so excited about returning to the UK, and I knew you weren't keen on the climate here, the sand, the people and everything else… I _wanted_ to believe that you'd come back, but I just wasn't sure."

He came to sit next to her on the steps – not without sweeping the sand to the side before –, put his arm around her and said "Well, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving you. That's the main reason why I returned. I was offered this post for another year, with an option of either having the assignment extended indefinitely or getting a post in the UK afterwards, so I thought I'd come back and see if I could muster up the courage to ask you out some time. I honestly had no clue if you wanted me to come back or not – I mean… why would you want me to return? After all, you had told me often enough that I'm the most annoying man on the island…"

He spoke lightly, but she sensed that he was entirely serious.

With a soft laugh, she leant on him and said "Oh Richard, you're so dense… hadn't you noticed that I was totally beside myself when you left? And as you mentioned the weather lab yesterday night… I said there that you don't have to solve your puzzles alone any more, don't you remember?"

He raised his eyebrows at her mentioning the word 'dense' and said "I do… you said _'you have me now'_ , and I pondered over what on earth you could mean with that for the entire night. Well, for as long as I was awake – and on and off over the following months, too."

He stroked her arm, and she moved closer. "Richard… it's not that I didn't trust you. It's just that I wasn't sure… and I didn't want to rely too much on what you had said just before you had left... because I was afraid I'd only get hurt in the end… "

"I know," he said.

There was a long silence again. He kept stroking her arm, very lightly, and Camille put her head on his shoulder. After a while she said "The thing is… I've been hurt so badly before. Several times in different ways. This is also why I reacted so strongly this morning when I thought that you might have regrets about last night and wanted to get rid of me…"

He waited. When she didn't continue, he asked "What happened? I mean, I kind of understand that you have been somewhat beside yourself recently, but you scared me out of my wits with your reaction this morning…"

She sighed and said "Well, lately, I've been feeling a bit unsettled because… oh, because of different things. I mean, a lot has happened over the past year, and it drove me to distraction that – no matter how hard I tried to draw you out of your shell - nothing ever happened between you and me, and that has kind of thrown me out of balance. It's been so… so difficult. And I had nobody to talk to… I mean, Aimee is dead, I can't possibly discuss this with my mother, and I have… I have no 'real' friends left on the island. There are a lot of acquaintances and loose friendships, but nobody I'd really… I'd really trust enough for talking about these things… You always seemed so aloof, so disinterested, so… so indifferent… I couldn't figure out how you felt about me. And I have made bad experiences before, so all sorts of memories came back – cobwebs, you know. Stuff I had buried so deep that I had thought it had no importance any longer. But of course, that was a foolish thing to believe. Your experiences and memories are with you constantly, like shadows. Recently, they've been very present for some reason – and I haven't been able to shake them off…"

She paused and then continued "I've never told you why I returned to the Caribbean, have I?"

He shook his head, and she gave him a scrutinising glance. It was like she was trying to gauge if he could handle the truth.

Eventually, she sighed, and he heard her say "Well, I suppose it's time to read that chapter in my life aloud… so I can get it behind me and we can start with a clean slate. So… here you go… when I returned here, it wasn't just that I was homesick or got an amazing offer that I couldn't turn down... The years in France were a great experience, but I've sometimes felt very lonely there. I've had a few short relationships, but never anything really serious. It's kind of symptomatic for that workfield – you have a network, you have comradeship, but you don't really have a chance to make friends or have a normal social life. Basically, you are quite alone. Also, work can be demanding, and you don't always have the patience to really take care of a relationship. In the end, nothing worked out – I scared them all away, I think. Then, during an assignment in Lyons, I met someone…"

And although it was difficult, she went on to tell him about how she had met Arnaud, the man she had got to know during her time in Lyons. About how they had started going out together, and about how she had initially been on cloud 9 with him…

"You know, he almost was too good to be true. He was half Caribbean – his mother comes from Martinique. So, we kind of shared that background, although he had never lived in the Caribbean, at least he had been over for visits… He was handsome, tall, charismatic…"

Her voice trailed off, and Richard felt jealousy welling up for a moment. But as if she could sense his uneasy feelings, she gave him a sideways glance, and a crooked little smile appeared on her face when she continued "There's no reason for feeling inferior, Richard. He wasn't what he appeared to be, and it was a clear lesson of 'don't judge a book by its cover'…"

There were a few moments of silence before she heaved a sigh that was both reminiscent and determined.

A hint of self-contempt in her voice, she explained "I was so naïve. I thought I was clever and knew it all, but really, I didn't. I was… I was weak and kind of hungry for appreciation, for love – otherwise, I don't think I would have fallen for him. Anyway… At first, everything went fine, and I was happy. He was self-confident, decisive, romantic and caring - but surprisingly needy, too. Initially, I liked that - it gave me a feeling of 'certainty', if you know what I mean. But after a while, I realised that he was trying to control me, he was possessive and manipulative… and I didn't like that very much."

She paused, and Richard nodded, encouraging her to continue.

So, she went on "It took me a while to figure out that he actively tried to alienate me from others – I cannot really claim I had friends in Lyons, but there were acquaintances, people I got together with for coffee or the occasional night out. Arnaud had a way of monopolising my time, though… and when I said 'no' to activities he had planned and didn't want to go because I had made other arrangements already, he quashed my objections or pleaded with me to reconsider. Also, he claimed I had messed up dates and promised him to go somewhere with him, and I couldn't possibly let him down now. I'm ashamed to admit that initially, it flattered me a bit. But then, a certain pattern emerged, and I got wary. He tried to isolate me so I'd depend on him. One day, I found out that he told a woman I used to go to the gym with once a week that I wouldn't come any more – I couldn't come one week because of an appointment, and he happened to be at my place when she came to pick me up and I wasn't there… At that point he took the opportunity to inform her that I wouldn't go to the gym any more at all. She wasn't there when I went the following week, and not the week after, either… she had switched to another day. And I only found out by coincidence – when I bumped into her in a small boutique by chance. When I confronted him, he claimed it had been a misunderstanding, but well… I knew deep inside that it hadn't been anything of that kind, but he pretended to be so crestfallen that I forgave him. He kind of… he kind of turned around reality, if you know what I mean. He made me believe things that I knew couldn't be true…"

Absentmindedly, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before she went on "There were other examples, and in hindsight, I really don't understand why I ignored all the red flags. But relationships are complex… When I was in the thick of things, it just seemed like there was no other way of handling the situation. And you know what, I wanted this relationship to work, I wanted to belong to someone… I wanted a friend, a companion… but we never were friends. It was not about knowing one another and going through thick and thin together, it was all about control. About having the upper hand. Not about trust, about being there for one another, about… about respect, and about _love_ … In retrospect, I can analyse the situation much better. You will ask what kept me from leaving him for good – I honestly cannot give you a satisfactory answer. It was a rather toxic relationship. And yet I stayed. I tried to make it work. I wanted it to last, although it made me unhappy. I realised that eventually. In the end, when I felt it was getting too much, I kept telling myself that I'd sit it out until I'd return to Paris. I didn't want to cause a stir."

For a moment, she was silent, and then she turned her head to look at him and explained "I knew I would be called back to Paris, and actually he knew, too, so it was over, anyway, I thought. Particularly over the last weeks of the 'project', I had said often enough that I wouldn't stay in Lyons, so to me, it was clear that our relationship was over. Although I still… I still found him physically attractive and had a soft spot for him, I had… I had kind of distanced myself from him, I had become evasive... and he had noticed that, of course, and he tried to convince me to stay. I wanted to part on good terms, as you do as a decent person… However, that didn't quite go as planned. I tried my best to make him understand that it was indeed over and I would definitely leave, no matter what. He didn't want to let me go, and I think I said some things I shouldn't have mentioned… You know me, I can get quite temperamental."

Richard raised his eyebrows with a knowing look in his eyes, but abstained from saying anything, and a rueful smile was on her lips when she said "Yeah, right… thank you for not saying it! - But anyway, I lost patience and said hurtful, stupid things. He said hurtful things, too, and… Well, you get the idea. It was horrible. I don't think I've ever had a more frustrating conversation. In the end, we got into a really bad row, and I got up and left. Or rather… I tried, but he got rough… couldn't stand me walking out on him… and from there, things got quite ugly."

She paused, trying to collect herself. Richard's eyes had widened as he had listened to her story, realising she – a strong, self-confident woman - had been a victim of 'gaslighting', but then again, it could happen to anyone.

When he didn't speak, she continued "I did get away, obviously. I'm resourceful, I have a degree in criminal psychology, and I haven't been trained in self-defence for nothing. And fortunately, he didn't come after me. But it was a demeaning experience… not so much the physical assault in the end, that wasn't the worst. The worst was that I felt I had made a complete fool of myself and lost all self-respect. That I had not only believed him – almost all the way until the bitter end - but also deceived myself. That I had tried to make a hopeless relationship work out just because I wanted to… to belong somewhere. It was a strange thing to go through, to say the least. It was a bad blow to my self-esteem and confidence. I returned to Paris a couple of days later, and when they approached me about going back to the Caribbean for an undercover job, I didn't hesitate. You know, this whole Arnaud thing had just been the final straw – I had a few other unsuccessful relationships before – not many, but well… enough to make me think it was hopeless, anyway - and I only wanted to go home and find peace. I was tired of living away from home, of being surrounded by people who couldn't relate to my background, of having a _fake_ life…"

She felt Richard's breath on her face as he bent over to kiss her temple. Grateful that he wasn't interrupting her, she snuggled up to him and continued "So this is how I ended up on Guadeloupe. I shoved all those nasty experiences to the side and focused on my new life. I decided that I didn't want anybody to know what had happened. I didn't want to talk about it. Even my mother doesn't know the details… I didn't want to need anybody any more. I just wanted to go home and rebuild my life, on my own. And little by little, I changed back into the island girl I had been before… and I loved it. I was so thankful for being back, and although it was disappointing at first when you blew my cover and I had to return to regular police work, I must admit that in the long run it has proved to be a blessing in disguise because it enabled me to reconnect with my old life here… and I have to thank you for that. I wasn't so excited about it at first, and working with you has honestly not been easy at first… but well… that has changed… obviously…"

Richard shifted a little so he could put his other arm around her as well and pulled her close. He didn't quite know what to say, so he remained quiet for a while until he finally came out with a slightly awkward "Well, it wasn't easy for me to work with you, either… and I felt like an idiot in your presence." He noticed her raised eyebrows and added "It didn't help that you kept saying I was the most annoying man on the island… besides all the other things you called me..."

She laughed softly and lightly touched his cheek with her hand. He turned his head to kiss her palm, and he registered that she shivered a little – with pleasure and excitement, as he hoped. She looked into his eyes and then looked away, cuddling into his arms again and savouring his nearness.

He heard her sighing, and after a moment of silence, she said "Richard… you _can_ be pretty annoying, and you know it. It is hard to grasp how you can be so brilliant, intelligent and caring on one hand and totally inept, brusque and abrupt on the other hand. But anyway… I want you to know that I'm sorry I've been so impatient with you sometimes when you insisted on sticking to your English habits. I know how hard it can be when you feel lost, when nothing around you feels right, and when you just don't feel at home… it was like that for me on and off in France. Most of the time, it was okay, but sometimes… not so much. I should have been more understanding and less teasing, but of course, you didn't make it any better with your irritating, stubborn behaviour…"

They were silent for a while, then Richard said softly "Thank you for telling me all this, Camille. I – I had no clue, obviously. I kind of assumed your life had always gone the way you had planned it. You always appeared to be so confident, so unbeatable… I just didn't get the bigger picture… I'm sorry that you made these horrible experiences…"

He got up, held out his hand and pulled her up. She came right into his arms, and they stood locked together for a few minutes.

"Camille…" Richard finally whispered "I have no idea what the future will bring, but I promise I'll try…"

In the moonlight, he saw her smiling seductively, and as her face came closer, she murmured "Oh, if you just let me be myself and love me the way I am… and keep doing what you did last night, I won't complain…"

He pulled her closer, and they kissed again, more passionately now. When the kiss ended, she whispered "I don't know where you learnt this, but it's definitely irresistible…"

They disappeared in Richard's shack, and moments later, Camille felt his hands on her body, his lips on hers… He sighed her name when they fell on the bed together…

And she knew: This time, all would be well. He was her friend, and he cared about her. He wouldn't desert or deliberately hurt her. She had finally found someone who wouldn't want to change, reform, manipulate or control her. And he wouldn't run away and abandon her, either.


	27. Disclosure

Chapter 27 - Disclosure

The next morning found Camille and Richard in their respective homes. After some wonderful hours together, Camille had reluctantly left him around midnight. She hadn't really wanted to go, but considering that they'd have to start work early again on the next morning, it seemed wiser to go home…

When she had lay in her bed, she had let the recent events pass in review, and she had smiled, remembering how he had remarked he might surprise her when they had made plans for the beachfire recently. He might not have had _that_ in mind when he had said this, but indeed, he _had_ stunned her…

Their first night together had been amazing, but the second one hadn't been any less wonderful. Of course, in between these two, she had been very unhappy for a little while. She remembered how she had woken up by his side, glowing with bliss and happiness, and then it had all fallen apart after she had returned from the bathroom. She had wanted to run away from him when she had thought his embarrassed silence had meant that he had realised it had all been a mistake… how devastated she had felt, forlorn, used, cheap and somewhat 'tacky'… From one minute to the next, she had felt like she had fallen into a vortex of misery.

Fortunately, he had found the right words to show her that she had misunderstood him – and that he, too, had feared she might have changed her mind. It had been such a relief to be in his arms then, to be held and reassured that he just hadn't known what to say…

She knew that he had been surprised by this open display of insecurity – the look on his face had betrayed him. But he had just accepted it and not questioned her behaviour or presumed a hidden agenda. It had been good that there hadn't been any need to pretend that she was strong and tough. Dwayne had been right – nobody could cope with Wonder Woman… and truth be told, she was so tired of being strong all the time.

Richard had been compassionate and sympathetic, and she had realised once more that he was understanding and considerate beneath his starchy, awkward and sometimes abrupt behaviour. He could be so childish, self-centred and pedantic sometimes – and this would _never_ change, she was fairly sure about that! - but he had a very soft and caring side. She remembered how she had called him annoying and impossible before – well, he could be just that at times, but she had also seen other facettes of his personality.

This had encouraged her to open up about her reasons to come back to the Caribbean, the bad experience she had made with Arnaud, and all the other little things that had undermined her self-confidence in the past. It had been good to finally talk about it – and he had reacted with much sympathy and understanding. He had held and caressed her, softly and without making demands.

From there, it had only been a small step to kissing, touching and caressing one another, and they had both wanted more after a little while, so they had gone inside. Although this hadn't been their first time together – but actually the third… she was still perplexed by this! – she had been a little nervous. The night before had been out of this world, and they both had been in a state of euphoria because of the tension they had been under before and that had been released now… What would it be like now that they had come back to the ground? Since she had left Arnaud, she hadn't had more than the occasional fling, but it hadn't gone beyond kissing and flirting – she had become even more cautious than she had already been before, and although her flirtatious and coquettish manners hadn't changed, she had become rather wary and avoided getting too close to the men she had met. She hadn't wanted to make another mistake.

But Richard was no mistake, and she wanted to be close to him. It was obvious that he felt the same way, but still… she had wondered how it would go. She had wanted it to be special…

She shouldn't have worried. Again, they had taken their time, and she had marvelled at how tender and gentle he had been… Admittedly, he had also been more nervous this time and a little clumsy, and he had started to stutter and apologise for not being overly experienced, but she hadn't let him finish his sentence – she didn't care whether or not he was a polished lover; he was sincere and honest with her, and that was all that counted to her. Their conversation before they had gone inside had been reassuring – she knew now that he understood her better, and she felt safe with him.

So, she had just showed him with little movements, gestures and whispered hints what she liked and how he could make her happy – and he'd been quick to translate it into action, obviously remembering their first time together and the way she had reacted to his touch then. What had amazed her was how attentive and perceptive he had been, how sensually and delicately he had touched her… it had been like he couldn't get enough of feeling her skin under his hands and his lips. Somehow, she hadn't expected him to be so keen on body contact – in daily life, he came across as rather reserved, unapproachable and awkward.

She sensed, though, that it had to do with trust. He wasn't the touchy-feely kind of person who'd generally _like_ being hugged or touched – he usually got all stand-offish and starchy when people came too close. But that was because he wasn't used to it and had a natural desire to keep his distance from strangers – he felt it was more appropriate and safe that way. She had noticed, however, that the longer they had known each other, the less he had insisted on keeping up the distance – he had let her brush dust off his jacket, pick stray hairs off his shirt and touch his hand. And, of course, they had danced together recently… which had been wonderful. So, it was obvious that he wasn't _generally_ averse to getting touched – it just had to do with knowing and trusting someone.

They had agreed on taking things slowly – they knew they'd both have to find their feet in this new situation. Richard had suggested that she'd tell Catherine if she was comfortable with it, but he didn't want to make a big deal out of their relationship. It wouldn't affect their work – they were determined to act professionally at the station – but Dwayne and Fidel probably wouldn't be all that surprised, as they both knew only too well.

So, they'd just act naturally – they didn't really have to make any big announcements at this stage.

* * *

Once again, Richard woke up to the croaking of the frogs near his shack. He smiled as he recalled the events of the last evening. It had been wonderful to have her around, and he was well aware that the way she had revealed details about her past signified that she trusted him. That meant the world to him.

The evening had ended on a light note – when they had kissed one last time on the veranda, Camille had whispered "And you know what, you lied. You claimed you're as old as the hills… but when you look at me like this, you look like a ten year old who got a bike for Christmas!"

They had laughed together, and she had disappeared in the darkness…

He was a little apprehensive about whether or not they would be able to hide their emotions at the station, but figured that he'd just have to focus hard on his work – and considering how used he was to ignoring things and putting on blinkers, he was fairly confident that he could manage.

And indeed, the day went fairly well – they were busy, so they weren't tempted to act like a couple in love. Only when Camille entered the station and smiled warmly at him, Richard blushed and almost dropped his pen. Dwayne and Fidel didn't notice, and soon after Camille had showed up, they received a phonecall from the local supermarket – someone had broken into the storeroom in the back of the building, and Camille and Dwayne went there to interrogate the staff and investigate the crime scene. Richard continued writing the report he had started earlier, and there was filing to do, so Fidel was busy, too.

During lunchtime, Fidel and Dwayne went for their regular market patrol, and Camille went to La Kaz to get lunch for Richard and herself. She had called her mother already beforehand, so the boxes were ready when she arrived. Catherine just nodded at her daughter – she was busy talking to one of her suppliers. They would have time to talk later on – Catherine was curious, but she knew that Camille would want to open up to her eventually when she was ready, and she didn't want to put pressure on her at this point. Putting pressure on her daughter never worked out well, as she had learnt the hard way…

Together, Camille and Richard sat on the bench outside and had their lunch. They looked entirely respectable and normal to everyone who passed the station, and when Dwayne and Fidel returned from their patrol, they didn't notice anything striking, either. Their two senior officers had obviously had lunch together and sat in companionable silence afterwards.

And really, Richard and Camille hadn't talked about anything in particular. They had just enjoyed spending quiet time together, revelling in the knowledge that they'd most likely see each other more privately in the evening. Of course, Richard was a little worried, but he knew it was pointless to work himself into a frenzy. He knew that Joey would do whatever she could to avoid hurting Camille, and he also knew that Camille would simply have to cope with the situation – there was no way around it, so worrying wouldn't change a thing.

* * *

Joey was already sitting at one of the small tables at the beach bar where they had decided to get together. Camille had been right, it wasn't very far from Richard's beach, a bit over a mile's walk, if that much. She had tried to outline a plan about how to break her news to Camille, but eventually, she had realised that there was no such thing as a good plan in this context. There were too many unpredictable factors, so she'd just have to play it by ear.

Camille had got a lift from her neighbour who was going to the beach nearby for a get-together with friends, so she didn't have to take the Defender. She was glad she didn't have to drive – that would give her a chance to drink a cocktail at the bar or some wine at Richard's later on. She figured she'd get a cab home later on, or maybe she'd walk – it wasn't all that far from the beach to town, after all.

She spotted Joey rightaway – although the bar wasn't particularly crowded, it was still busy enough, but her friend's zebra-patterned shirt and her bright pink capris kind of stood out, anyway. Maybe the shirt would have been a bit less striking if it hadn't been pink as well… not to mention the bright pink headscarf that Joey wore along with it.

Camille's lips curved in an amused smile. She had seen some really eccentric outfits on her friend over the past few weeks. Some of them she had liked, others she had shook her head at… but you definitely couldn't claim that Joey's style was boring or uninspired. Joey hadn't noticed her yet, so she took a moment to look at her friend.

Joey was fidgeting with her handbag... She seemed to look at something… Was it a pocket mirror? Her driver's licence? Her phone? Her shopping list? Whatever it was, it seemed to have quite an effect on her – she smiled radiantly when she put it back inside and closed the zipper of her bag. Then she turned around and saw Camille.

Was it just her imagination, or did Joey's smile really freeze for an instant? Before Camille could really decide whether or not she had just seen a hint of panic in Joey's eyes, her friend got up, opened her arms and called out at her "Camille! You look fabulous!"

They hugged, and Camille sat down. Soon, they were chatting away – cautiously avoiding the topic of the beach fire, though. Joey made an admiring remark about Camille's silver bracelet, and they got into a conversation about jewelry, style, fashion and everything connected to this.

The menu didn't have too many options, and so they both just had a salad and a glass of wine. Camille decided to forego the cocktail – her mother's were better, anyway. After they had eaten, Joey seemed keen on getting away from the bar, so they settled the bill, and a few minutes later, they were on their way to where they had had the beach fire.

As they arrived by the logs, they both looked into the shack's direction, but Richard was nowhere to be seen. Joey had hoped he might sit outside on the veranda, but no such luck. Camille noticed that the shutters were half-closed, and somehow the little house looked abandoned and lonely, although the position of the shutters indicated that Richard was at home – he would have closed them completely if he had gone out. Maybe he was sitting on the bed, reading or doing a puzzle…

"It's a strange place, this funny little bungalow…" Joey remarked.

"How do you mean?" Camille asked.

"Oh, I don't know. It's just quite bizarre with the tree growing in the room, and all that. And it looks cosy and all, like taken out of a picture book, but I bet it's horribly uncomfortable and inconvenient with the tin roof and its lack of amenities… Doesn't Richard get hot and bothered in there?" she asked, seemingly innocently.

Camille laughed out loud and said "You bet he does. He's complained about it so often that I have lost count… But he has survived the past two years in there, and I suspect that he just kind of got used to it. Sometimes I think he just likes to wallow in his misery, though… He could definitely afford moving somewhere else, so why he doesn't do it, is a miracle to me. Maybe he will some time – who knows?"

Joey frowned and said "Hm. I guess you are right, he just got used to it. And it wasn't meant to be more than a temporary assignment for him, anyway, so he might have figured he could just sit it out… and before he knew it, two years were over, and he's still here…"

"Yes, I know," was Camille's thoughtful reply. "Here, let's sit down… You never know what life will bring you," she took up the thread again. "When I returned to the Caribbean, I didn't expect to become part of a regular police team so soon, either… I had fancy plans for my undercover activities, and then it all fell to pieces. In all honesty, though, it probably was for the best… I was tired of hiding, anyway."

She shifted a little on the log of driftwood to get more comfortable and added softly "Of course, I couldn't admit it back then, but Richard actually did me a favour when he blew my cover… It was hard to work with him at first, but honestly, it has turned out to be the most rewarding experience in my professional life so far… He's a good boss."

Joey was familiar with the story of Richard's first case and how he had arrested Camille – after all, she had heard about Camille sharing a cell with the notorious goat on her first evening at La Kaz. But back then, Camille certainly hadn't conceded she had been grateful for how things had developed – she had been too busy teasing Richard and claiming that he had behaved like an idiot. But now her voice was far from being playful and frisky. She rather sounded contemplative, and Joey had the feeling that she would now tell her about the recent development between her and Richard.

And indeed, Camille felt that she wanted to share her happiness with someone. She wasn't quite sure how her mother would react, but she expected Joey to be pleased for her, so she said with a smile "You know how I've sometimes complained about his aloofness and distant behaviour… he's driven me batty with his stand-offish manners and his 'Englishness'. But it also sparked my interest…"

She saw Joey nodding, and she continued "He's so _different_ from all the men I've met before."

Joey laughed and responded "That doesn't surprise me! Let me give a guess – he's the main reason why you began to loathe the blind dates your mum had arranged for you? And he's why neither Andrew nor anybody else ever stood a chance?"

Camille nodded and felt a bit silly, remembering their recent conversation at 'Chez Sandrine'.

She looked into her friend's eyes and said with a smile "I just wasn't sure how he felt about me. But now… now I _know_ …"

Joey tilted her head to one side and said with a gleam in her eyes "The beachfire? Or rather… what came afterwards when we all had disappeared and you did the cleaning up?"

Camille nodded again, and Joey laughed happily as she got up and sat next to her friend, putting an arm around her. "I'm so pleased for you! Both of you, actually! It's not going to be easy," she said with a tender smile, "but I'm sure you'll be very happy with him. He's difficult, but you like a challenge, and I know he will do everything to make things work… and so will you! But tell me, have you told your mother already?"

"Not yet… although I suspect that she has an idea," Camille replied. "I can't quite predict her reaction, though, so I have kept quiet… and it's still very new, anyway. We won't exactly hide our love, but we will have to work together, so it wouldn't be appropriate to make a big song and dance about it."

Joey nodded and said "I understand." For a moment, it was silent, then Joey said a little hesitantly "Speaking of hiding, Camille… there's something I should have talked to you about for some time already… I haven't had the courage to do so, though…"


	28. Revelations

Chapter 28 - Revelations

Camille looked at her friend - inquiringly. Joey had cast down her eyes, looking at her purse as if she was trying to find courage there.

"What is it?" asked Camille, a little worried and alarmed now. Within an instant, her mood had shifted from elated and happy to concerned.

"Come on, I'm not that bad – out with it!" she insisted.

Joey's laugh was a little wobbly. She took a deep breath, looked straight into Camille's eyes and said "I'll go back to the UK next weekend. My flight will leave on Saturday."

Anxiously, she waited for Camille's reaction. It was unprecedented – Camille was speechless. For what seemed like several minutes it was completely quiet, except for the sound of the waves, the birds screeching and the palm fronds rustling in the wind. Camille just gawped at Joey, open-mouthed. Then she suddenly shut her mouth, got up, turned around and ran a hand through her hair.

She stared out onto the ocean. Then, she retrieved a tissue from her pocket, dabbed her eyes and blew her nose before turning around again to face Joey who had followed her movements with her eyes, anxiously awaiting the storm to break loose.

Joey was holding her breath… but nothing happened. Camille sat down on another log so she could face her friend. For what seemed like an eternity, she just quietly sat there, looking at Joey. Then she finally opened her mouth again and said "Well, that's a surprise…"

Much to Joey's astonishment, there was no reproach or anger in Camille's voice. She just sounded taken aback – and worried.

Camille continued "I figure… I figure you've got a good reason… has anything serious happened at home? I mean… I know you don't have family in the UK, but… I mean, this comes so suddenly, so I just hope it's not… Or are you in… in any kind of trouble?"

Joey was incredibly relieved and almost perplexed that Camille wasn't angry with her – she hadn't even considered her friend might be _worried_. She had been so focused on Camille maybe feeling hurt and abandoned that it hadn't crossed her mind she'd be worried and concerned on her behalf.

Camille's concern was real. Yes, her initial reaction had been a pang of desolation, of bleakness… her friend would go away… But then, she had realised how selfish this was. She figured that Joey wouldn't leave just on a whim – something serious must have happened, she knew that. So, she had tried to compose herself and find out what the reason for Joey's decision could be.

Joey's face had shown apprehensiveness, but now her expression changed, and she smiled lovingly at Camille. "Oh, Camille – thank you for your concern… that's so thoughtful of you! But no, you don't have to worry… I'm not in trouble at this point… quite the opposite, actually – it seems that finally things are getting back to some sort of normal for me… But I will have to leave Saint Marie for that, and I'm not sure what the future holds for me…"

She knew that this wasn't enough – and indeed, Camille's eyes told her that she would have to explain herself better if she wanted her to understand. And she had a right to know the entire truth, given how close they had become over the past weeks.

Joey had known this all along, and she had come prepared.

Determinedly, Joey opened her purse, taking out a generic long brown envelope, along with a little oblong box.

"Look," she said "I don't quite know how to say it, so I have written you a letter. Everything you need to know is in there. It's a long story, and some of the details aren't very… pleasant. I find it hard to talk about the whole thing, so I figured it would be easier to write it all down for you. I would… I would prefer you to read it when you have a quiet moment by yourself – I don't want to be around when you read it. I'm afraid we'd get too emotional over it all, and I couldn't bear that at this point. I've never meant to stay permanently on Saint Marie, but the recent development has come as a surprise, and I find… I find I'll have to leave earlier than anticipated. It's all good, so please don't worry about me, Camille…"

Camille gave an almost imperceptible nod. She still didn't understand, but she felt how difficult this was for Joey. She also realised that everyone had their individual way of dealing with things, and this was Joey's way.

"I will… I will be here for a few more days so there's still time to talk about it, if you… if you are interested. My flight will leave from Guadeloupe, and I'll have to take the ferry there on Saturday morning. My gym membership is cancelled, and unless you want me to, I will not come to your mother's bar before my departure… although I'd like to say goodbye to everyone somehow…"

They both got up, and Joey held out the letter to Camille who took it, turned it around and around in her hands for a few moments, looking at her name on the envelope. Then, she casually folded it, slipped it into the back pocket of her yellow capris with a determined gesture and opened her arms to hug Joey.

* * *

Richard was standing by the window, watching the two women on the beach. There – Camille had jumped up… He recognised the frustration and concern in her movements. Obviously, Joey had spilled the beans… Now, what would happen next? She was sitting down again, and they were talking. After a few minutes, they both got up, Joey gave Camille something that looked like an envelope from where he stood… and then they hugged. Joey then handed Camille something else – a box? Yes, it was a rectangular box, about the same measurements as the envelope.

This was not quite what Richard had expected. He let out a sigh of relief – suddenly feeling a little light-headed and realising only now that he had been holding his breath for a few moments. He was annoyed with himself - he should have known these two would find a way to communicate. Not everyone was as inept as he was...

Just after the two women had hugged, Joey made ready to leave, and when she was gone, Camille sat down again on the log of driftwood where they had sat on Saturday evening during the beach fire. He observed her hunched posture, her sagged shoulders… she threw back her head, ran a hand through her hair again…

Should he go outside to sit next to her, running the risk that she'd feel spied out by him? Or should he rather wait for her to come to him?

He decided that waiting would be the safer option. He didn't want her to think that he had been sitting around, prying about her and Joey's interaction… Admittedly, it was hard not to go outside – she looked so forlorn, so unbelievably lonely. But he told himself that he owed it to her to respect her privacy. She knew he was here, so if she wanted him to know what was going on, she'd come round…

* * *

Out on the beach, Camille tried to find the courage to open Joey's letter. It was not that she feared any earth shattering, devastating news that would make her sad or aghast. It was more that Joey's parting words had slightly shaken her up as she had handed her the box. She had said "This is a little gift for you, Camille. Please don't open it before you have read the letter. The explanation is in the box… And whatever you'll feel when you read my letter – don't forget that I'll _always_ be your friend, no matter where I am."

Richard would perhaps have said this had been a 'mawkish' or 'sentimental' thing to say – but Camille had been touched by the sincerity in Joey's voice. As flippant as her friend could be sometimes - she hadn't been facetious, and this statement hadn't been made in jest…

Finally, after a long time, she took out her house-keys and slit the sturdy envelope open. There were several sheets inside, and Camille found the first page, starting off with _"My dear Camille_ ".

Twenty minutes later, she put the letter back into the envelope, retrieved another tissue and blew her nose once again. She had had to interrupt reading a couple of times because she had had to try to grasp what Joey had been writing. Every once in a while, she had had to wipe away tears – of sadness, of anger, and once or twice also of laughter… Joey's style of writing was as extravagant and unique as her style of clothing and as impulsive as her way of speaking.

She could understand now why Joey hadn't wanted to talk about all this, and she was thankful for her decision to write instead of sitting down to talk. It had not been because of lack of trust – then she wouldn't have written it down, either, but rather have made evasive and general statements. It had not been because of fear of being judged, either – she had made it very clear in her letter that she was sure Camille would not look at her with different eyes now that she knew more about the circumstances that had brought her here and would take her away again soon.

No, indeed… it had been because she had known that Camille would get emotional, that she'd perhaps interrupt her, that they wouldn't be able to remain calm and collected… when that was what was needed in this situation because all the rage in the world wouldn't make a difference any more…

All these things had happened, and getting upset about them wouldn't change anything.

Camille had gasped at the sight of the pictures of Joey's scars that she had included – now she knew why her friend had always chosen the curtained showers at the gym, why she had never worn anything sleeveless, why she had cultivated her personal style with frilly turbans, scarves and shawls. She had seen a lot during the years of her service, but she hadn't ever been personally connected to any of the victims – except for Aimee. When she and Arnaud had had their final big fight, she had got out of that with a couple of bruises and haematomas, but it hadn't been anything permanent, so she could only try and imagine what Joey had gone through… and what she still had to live with.

Now Camille also understood why Joey had been so cold towards Dwayne. She took out the letter again to re-read the paragraph that went "I know it's unfair, and really, Dwayne has _never_ done anything to hurt me, but he has a way with women that reminds me strongly of some of the men I had to fend off over the years, and I've come to loathe the behaviour patterns of those who see themselves as God's gift to womankind. I'm sure he's a great guy – albeit neither ambitious nor overly bright… he is streetwise, kind-hearted and resourceful, though, which is an equally valuable package of assets like bookish knowledge. I also know that he has a wonderful sense of humour, but I can't help it – I just can't bring myself to acting naturally around him… I have to say, though, he's got an amazing voice, and I appreciate that he never got pushy around me. And his beaded necklace is cool, I must say!" She had inserted a little drawing there – a portrait of Dwayne with his necklace. He was sporting one of his characteristic clueless 'what on earth…?' faces, and Camille had to laugh out loud – Joey certainly had a talent to pinpoint people's outstanding traits, and she was good at drawing and caricaturing.

The last paragraph revealed that Joey had spoken to Richard before writing her letter. Next to a picture of a frowning mini-Richard holding a teacup, she explained "I have to be honest - I didn't really want to write this letter in the first place. But I promised Richard that I would not leave you in the dark about why I have to go. I'm not proud to admit it, but I had originally decided to turn to him because I had hoped he would do the 'dirty' work for me – explain my story to you and let me take the easy way out. But I'm sure you guessed it, your starchy, ultra-correct, pig-headed boss didn't agree with this. And actually, he's right - as much as I hated to admit it when he said so. He explained you're a sincere person with deep feelings and had deserved better - and you would be tremendously hurt if I didn't tell you myself. And yes, he's got a very good point – after all, friendship is about trust, and you owe your friends respect and honesty. He's a horribly abrupt man with hardly any social skills, and he can be _so_ ill-mannered - but he's always been fair on me, and I like him. Also, I know he cares about you. A lot. He just has a hard time admitting it. Thought I'd mention it. Right - now I've told you all you need to know, and I hope you'll understand me. Call me if you want to talk before I leave. I hope you won't let me go without saying goodbye. And before I come to a close… let me just say it once again: Thank you for your friendship, Camille, and I will always, always be your friend – no matter how far apart we are."

Camille re-read this paragraph several times. Finally, she folded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope. Then she pulled out her phone and checked the time. She had sat here longer than she had known…

* * *

Richard was engrossed in a book about volcanoes when he heard the knock on the doorframe. He had stretched out on his bed to read a little – he had figured it was pointless to watch Camille from the distance and trusted she'd come to see him when she was ready. He had had a little bite to eat, and then he had got comfortable with his book. He had considered keeping his regular trousers and dress shirt on that he had worn for work, but then decided to get changed. It was so hot, and Camille had not only seen him in a variety of outfits already, but also without clothes altogether by now – it seemed a bit pointless to greet her in full rig-out!

He looked up, and there she was, framed by the door casing. He couldn't see her face against the light, but he sensed that she was slightly beside herself – her posture indicated that she was tired. He put the book on his nightstand, jumped up and approached her – and once again, he was unsure how to greet her. Would this _ever_ change? It wasn't so difficult once the initial hurdle was overcome, but he didn't want to make assumptions or invade her space.

But she made it easy for him again… she threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, so the only appropriate thing to do was putting his arms around her and pulling her close. "Hello," he whispered. Camille closed her eyes and revelled in the feeling of being held by him – this was all she wanted at this point. It was still very new, but already felt comfortingly familiar.

Just when he was beginning to worry because of her silence, she sighed a little, lifted her head and responded with a smile. "Good evening, Richard," she whispered, and then they didn't say anything for a while as they were engaged in holding and kissing one another. Richard still found it hard to believe that this was actually happening to him, but he wasn't complaining!

Finally, they broke apart, and she said softly "I have to apologise to you, Inspector. I have said several times that you have no clue about what empathy means, but I was mistaken. You just don't talk about some of your observations quite as much as I do… and you don't consider yourself an expert on other people's feelings… Kudos to you for finding out about Joey's secrets before I even had a clue of what was going on…"

He was a little worried that she might be hurt about his silence on the matter and began to struggle for words, trying to explain somewhat defensively that it had been Joey's idea to tell him everything, but Camille interrupted him and said "It's okay, Richard, it's okay. She has told me that you made her promise to tell me her story, so I know how it all happened. I'm just grateful that she has come out with it… and I'm glad to know why she's going to leave. I can't believe how blind I have been – it never occurred to me that she might be into girls – not that it matters, mind you, or makes any difference to me -, and while I kind of had a feeling that she was hiding something, I never would have thought it could be anything like having been assaulted, abandoned and mistreated like that…I've been completely clueless!"

She shook her head, still puzzled by what she had just read in Joey's letter. Her friend had been deliberately vague about some details, but Camille was no fool – she had enough imagination to have a fairly clear picture of what had happened. She felt Richard's thumb on her face, caressing her, not realising that he was wiping a stray tear off her cheek.

"I know," he said very softly, "I also thought it was a fairly grim story. But like you, she's a plucky girl, and she has character. It's amazing that she hasn't become a bitter, unhappy person. There are many people who would have broken… but she didn't…"

Camille said pensively "She wrote in her letter that one of her mottoes is the Hemingway line 'a man can be destroyed but not defeated', only that she thinks it should be a more gender-neutral phrasing altogether – I think that describes her pretty well, doesn't it?"

He nodded quietly and pulled her closer again as she whispered "Oh, Richard, I understand that she has to go – but I'm going to miss her…"

With that, she put her head on his shoulder and let out a deep, desperate sigh.


	29. Getting to the Bottom

Chapter 29 – Getting to the Bottom

It was late when Camille left the little shack on the beach. It had done her good to spend the evening with Richard – he had been undemonstratively attentive towards her, and it had felt wonderful to just being held by him. Due to lack of decent 'facilities' that would be convenient to sit on together, they had got comfortable on his bed, Richard had rested his back on the headboard, propped up by several cushions, and Camille had sat next to him, her head on his shoulder and his arm around her. She had felt snug and secure – and she had realised that it had been a long time since anybody had given her this feeling of being accepted – unconditionally.

He had asked her about the box that Joey had given her, and she had retrieved it from his nightstand where she had put it. It had been beautifully wrapped in black, glossy paper, and a bright red ribbon with an elaborate bow had completed the perfect arrangement. A little wooden ladybug, sitting on a four leaf clover made of felt, had been attached to the box.

Camille had carefully unwrapped the gift and opened the box. There was a folded sheet of stationery on top of a layer of fine rustling tissue paper – it was a handwritten note that read

" _Camille – this is for you, as a token of my everlasting friendship. Timmy gave this to me when we were transitioning from being 'only friends' (whatever that means – isn't friendship just another form of love?) to dating seriously, and it has always been special to me. It's supposed to bring you good luck. She had got it from her great aunt (the one I told you about) – she had received it from a friend and advised Timmy to pass it on to someone she cared for… so, that's what she did. I want to do the same thing: I'm at a crossroad in my life, and it's time to pass this on to someone I care for – with all my love. I hope it'll remind you of me. It should go together fabulously with a black skirt – or trousers - and your light blue strappy top or the lilac blouse I've seen on you some time! Or maybe you'll want to invest into a new outfit altogether?! Forever friends - Joey"_

Under the layer of tissue paper, Camille had found the coral-blue-lilac silk scarf that Joey had worn one evening and that Camille had admired so much. She had taken it out, unfolded it and touched the soft material in awe. Then she had turned to Richard, looking at him with tears in her eyes. He had reacted immediately by taking her in his arms and murmuring soothing words into her hair when she had started to sob.

Oh, she had been so emotional over these past few days, it wasn't funny any more… How patient Richard had been with her…

As she lay in her bed later on – Richard had insisted on calling a cab for her, so she wouldn't have to walk all the way home – she marvelled at how you could be so sad and so happy at the same time. She hadn't wanted to admit it all that openly to Richard, but Joey's forthcoming departure really made her rather unhappy… she had become so accustomed to having her around. It had been so long since she had had a real friend, and even if she hadn't been as close a friend as… say, Aimee… their relationship had still been special. Nobody could compare to Aimee, Camille knew that only too well. It would be strange to go to the gym alone again, it would be strange to know that Joey wouldn't pop in at La Kaz any more, and it would be strange to have nobody to laugh with any more – at least not the way that she and Joey had laughed together.

At the same time, she was incredibly happy to have Richard in her life now – not only as her boss or as a friend, but as a confidant and as a lover. It was good to feel safe about that. It had been heart-warming how he had just been there for her tonight, how he had not tried to distract her by making conversation or initiating anything physical – he had just held her tight, they had talked a little, and she had felt completely at ease with him. It had seemed that he had felt the same way - she never would have expected him to be so relaxed with her. Considering how uptight and awkward he could be, this had been an amazing experience… and she had silently apologised for ever calling him pompous, childish and insensitive. He just hadn't known how to show his concern properly… well, until now, apparently.

She giggled a little as she remembered how he had been slightly embarrassed when she had started to tease him about the loose trackpants he had been wearing tonight, together with a plain grey polo shirt. He had become flustered when she had pointed out that she was used to seeing him in formal trousers or in his pyjamas… and then she had said that – while the trackpants were fine with her - she liked him in his underpants, too. He had blushed wildly, and she hadn't been able to resist whispering that he also looked fine without any clothes at all. That had brought about another bout of embarrassment and confusion – he hadn't quite known what to say or do when she had come up with that, and he had started to protest incoherently until he had fallen silent and glanced at her reproachfully.

She had taken pity on him – she had snuggled up to him and pressed a kiss on his neck before she had looked up at his face again, and the grip of his arm had become tighter as he had bent his head to kiss her properly. They had definitely made some significant progress over the past few days.

She turned over to get more comfortable in her bed, and although she still had so much to ponder and think about, she was fast asleep within a few minutes.

* * *

Richard woke up with a start when his alarm clock went off the next morning. He had slept like a log, much to his surprise, despite all the thoughts that had been running through his head before he had gone to sleep the night before…

As he went through his morning routine, he wondered for the umpteenth time how Joey had managed to survive all the misery she had had to go through without having turned bitter, misanthropic and screwed-up. He had seen people go crazy about lesser things.

His thoughts then wandered to Camille – beautiful, mysterious, courageous, fiercely independent, sharp-minded… and yet, so soft, so sensitive, so compassionate – how did she do that? He thought of all the years of undercover work she had done, living a bit like a nomad, without hardly any ties… The difficult situations that she had experienced, the failed pseudo-relationship with Arnaud who had wanted to manipulate and 'possess' her, the professional 'flop' when she had to take the retrograde step to join the regular forces again, the loss of Aimee… How had she survived?

He wasn't the world's most introspective man, but he _was_ capable of self-reflection, and he realised that he had never wasted a single thought on how she had managed to adjust when she had returned to Saint Marie. He had just taken it as a given fact that she had no issues finding her feet while he was struggling… How selfish he had been. How clueless. How presumptuous. Good grief. He had to wonder why she was still talking to him. He had been offended by the least little thing, always believing that he was the only one who suffered…

Well, he knew he wouldn't change fundamentally. Nobody did that. Your personality was there, and you acted within certain parameters – based on your personality and the experiences you had made over the years. However, you could perhaps try and learn to broaden your spectrum of behaviour patterns… you could go new ways within your shaped personality and discover options that were still within your parameters, but different from what you usually did… You could make a conscious effort and establish new habits. After all, insights were pretty useless if you didn't draw any consequences then…

He wondered what Catherine would say when she became aware of how he and Camille had realised that they had fallen in love and decided to give it a try. He was never quite sure when it came to Camille's mother – she was very shrewd and observant in some respects, but rather misguided and almost dense in others. She had a concept of how people had to behave… and her standards didn't always meet with his. However, he figured she was smart enough not to try and dissuade Camille from going out with him – she knew that Camille had a mind of her own, and it would just make her fan out her hackles and do the opposite of what her mother thought was right. Camille was fairly indulgent with Catherine, and they were very close, but there were things she would not tolerate.

They had agreed that she'd tell Catherine some time over the next few days, and they'd take it from there. He was fairly sure that Dwayne and Fidel wouldn't be too surprised. They had looked away when he had put his arm around Camille during the beach fire, but that didn't mean they hadn't noticed. Richard hoped that by dealing with the whole thing quietly and unassumingly they'd avoid all major surveillance and curiosity. It was a thing between Camille and him, not a public affair, after all.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive about the Commissioner's reaction… Then again, being involved with Camille would mean that he would most likely stay on Saint Marie – which was what Selwyn Patterson had tried to talk him into, anyway. So maybe he wouldn't look at their relationship too critically? Well, they'd find out soon enough…

* * *

The day had dragged on forever for Joey. It was not that she hadn't been busy – Andrew had not been happy when she had told him that she'd leave on the coming weekend, and in an attempt to get as many projects finished as possible, the two of them had started work at 7 in the morning. Now it was close to 7 in the evening, they had just finished work, and they had only had a short lunch break in between. So, it wasn't due to lack of distraction that the day didn't seem to end… It was more that Joey was on tenterhooks because of Camille's reaction – or lack thereof. She could only imagine that this meant her friend was more hurt than she had let on at first – or that the letter that had taken her so much courage and energy to write hadn't found its way into Camille's heart.

She felt lonelier than ever before… but at least, she knew that she'd return to the UK soon, and she knew that Timmy was waiting for her. They had scheduled another skype session for Wednesday evening, and Joey was looking forward to that… although it would be hard to push the sadness about Camille's non-reaction to the side.

It was half past 7 when her phone finally buzzed. Her stomach lurched with nervousness when she accepted the call… it was Camille.

"Hey Joey," she heard her say. Her voice was warm and cheerful. Joey felt as if the sun had suddenly come out again from behind a dark, dark cloud… Camille wasn't upset with her! She was so relieved that she hardly understood what her friend was saying. When there was an expectant silence on Camille's end, she realised that she hadn't listened and had to ask Camille to repeat her question. It turned out that it was about going for a drive together. Camille wanted to take her to a particular beach. "Have you eaten? No? Me neither. I'll ask my mother to give me some leftovers, and we can eat at the beach, if that's okay with you?"

Joey was happy to agree, and when the Rover's horn tooted in front of the house half an hour later, she rushed out, waving a short goodbye to Andrew who was sitting in front of the TV, a bottle of beer in one hand, a sandwich in the other, dead-tired and amazed at Joey's sudden bout of energy.

* * *

In silent agreement, they didn't talk much on the way to the beach. The atmosphere was a little awkward, but not inimical. Joey felt that Camille was in a pensive mood, but she wasn't hostile – that was a relief. Despite her seemingly self-confident attitude, she had been worried about that.

She could smell the faint scent of food coming from the back seat, and she noticed with some surprise that she was really hungry now. Until Camille had called, she hadn't really had any desire to have food, but now she felt she could easily demolish a three course meal.

They sat on a blanket that Camille had brought along and had their food in silence, only interrupted by the occasional remark about the beach, the sound of the waves and the warmth of the air. When they had finished and put all the waste into the little bag that they had taken along, Camille sighed, pulled up her legs and hugged her knees. She turned her head to Joey and said "Thank you for that letter, Joey."

Joey nodded, a little hesitantly, and waited for Camille to continue. But Camille said nothing more.

After a few moments of silence, Joey finally asked "What do you think?"

Camille looked out on the ocean and said "I'm glad that you told me everything. It must have been a rough time for you, and I honestly don't know how you got through it without turning into a resentful monster, but somehow you did, and I find that amazing. And I think you are one of the bravest people I've ever met. It takes courage to get up again when you fall down, and you've had so many obstacles on your way… it's a miracle that you didn't give up."

She turned her head again and added "And I can totally understand why Timmy wants you back. You're definitely a keeper, no matter what happens."

Joey swallowed hard and said "Thank you. That… that's the nicest thing anybody – apart from Timmy - ever said to me..."

Then she asked tentatively "And you… you're not upset with me for… not coming out with it sooner?"

Camille was silent again for a moment. Then she shook her head and said "No. I'm not. I mean, we haven't known each other for all that long yet, and it's normal to be cautious around people that you don't know very well. We're not teenagers any more who blurt out their 'secrets' immediately; it takes time to trust. I always felt that you… that you were holding something back, if you know what I mean, but then again… we all have chapters in our life that we don't read out loud, so-to-speak, and I figured you'd tell me when you were ready. And you did."

Joey shifted and sat on her heels. "Yes, you are right… I didn't think I would tell anyone around here – as I said in my letter, I hadn't planned to make friends. But sometimes things just happen… You meet people, you make friends, you fall in love… you can't do much about that, can you, unless you want to be a solitary hermit… and that would really be pretty boring, wouldn't it!"

Camille laughed softly and said "At least you have realised this at a rather early age – you're not even 30 yet, are you? It has taken Richard over 40 years to understand that living as a solitary hermit is utterly boring…"

Joey grinned and said teasingly "But he's got the message now, hasn't he? I meant what I said, Camille – he's a good man, despite his horribly abrupt manners and his lack of social skills, and he has strong feelings for you."

She saw Camille's curious gaze and laughed as she said "Oh, don't you think he has made any real confessions in that respect when I spoke to him! He just about admitted that he 'cares' about you!"

She imitated Richard's way of speaking, and Camille just had to giggle. Then, Joey continued with her normal voice "But his eyes betrayed him. Boy, you should have seen his _eyes_ … They're amazing, anyway, but you could have drowned in them when he said that he cares about you! And for a man like him who tends to be so evasive and non-committal about feelings and all that, his statement was amazingly clear."

Joey's remark about Richard eyes amused Camille – she knew what she meant. Every once in a while, she had seen this look in his eyes, and it had always made her knees go weak… And it was easy to imagine Richard's uptight behaviour during that particular conversation… he surely had squirmed and wriggled like a worm under Joey's scrutinising questions. He was so easily embarrassed!

Camille laughed out loud now. She felt free, happy and sure of the future all of a sudden… like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and she could finally breathe again…

She gently prodded Joey as she said, still laughing "And to imagine that I was jealous of you at first… I thought you'd conquer him in a second with your charms… and I'd be the lonely one in the end!"

Joey just stared at her in disbelief for a moment, and then she began to laugh, too.


	30. You have me now

Chapter 30 – "You have me now"

On the next morning, Camille found it a little difficult to get out of bed – she and Joey had sat on the beach until two in the morning. After Camille had confessed that she had been a bit jealous at first, Joey had laughed so hard at the absurdity of this that she had tears running down her face – from that moment on, the self-consciousness that had overshadowed their get-together had completely dissipated, and they had spent the next hours on exchanging all sorts of anecdotes, talking about the past, wondering about the future and fantasising about how Joey and Timmy would come to Saint Marie for an extended visit.

When she arrived at the station, Richard, Dwayne and Fidel were already there. Dwayne noticed the bags under her eyes and asked sympathetically "Wild night?" Camille shook her head and said "Not really wild. Just long. Joey and I were out on the beach until 2 a.m., and I'm afraid I didn't get enough sleep, but never mind, it was all worth it. On that note, I've got news for you… Joey will leave for the UK on Saturday morning – well, she'll take the early ferry to Guadeloupe then and will fly out later the same day. I want to throw a farewell party for her at La Kaz – any ideas what we could come up with in particular? We could discuss it tonight at the bar – she won't be around due to other obligations."

Richard gave her a sideways glance. Obviously, it had been a fun evening for the two of them. He was glad that they had spent time together – he knew that Camille would suffer once Joey would be gone, so he understood that she wanted to make the most of the remaining few days together.

As they drove to one of the seaside resorts later that day – there had been a major series of pick-pocketing - almost a raid - in the resort's night club lately, and they wanted to have a look at the CCTV material that the manager's secretary had promised to provide for them – Richard asked casually "So, you had a good time at the beach?"

"Yes, we did…" Camille responded, took her hand off the steering wheel and let it rest on his thigh. Richard blushed, cleared his throat and said stiffly "Camille… would you please…"

"What?" she asked, seemingly all innocence. He groaned and said in a suggestive tone "It's hot enough already, and I'm bathed in sweat… if you continue to touch me like that, I'm afraid I'm going to melt…"

She passed him a brief sideways glance from under her lashes and saw a tiny smile curving his lips. Her eyebrows went up and she said teasingly, slowly letting her hand slide over his leg "Good grief, Inspector… I didn't know you were _that_ sensitive…"

"I'm not made of stone, and you know it only too well," he retorted. "Now, keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel. We're in public, Detective Sergeant, and the last thing we need is getting into an accident because we're both distracted."

"What makes you think I'm distracted?" she asked as she avoided a pothole. He caught her hand and responded matter-of-factly "That dangerous gleam in your eyes. I'll be happy to see more of it some time later, but for now, we're at work, and this is not the place or time for – er – any displays of affection."

She grinned and gently squeezed his fingers before taking her hand away again. She knew he wasn't seriously upset, and she understood his point. It was hard not to show her affection openly, though – it had taken them so long to find the courage to admit that there was more between them than just 'colleagueship' and maybe some odd kind of 'friendship', and now that they knew how much they really meant to one another, she wanted everyone else to know, too.

However, she forgot about that over the next few hours – it seemed to take them forever to get through the CCTV material, and even during their half hour of lunch together – the resort had given them a table and a free meal in their restaurant – they only talked about the case. Fortunately, after another hour of searching, there was a small hint – they could identify two individuals who definitely showed up each time when an 'incident' happened – albeit being dressed up very differently with wigs, sunglasses and other 'props' they were unmistakable in their movements and gesture -, and it turned out that during all seven incidents the club receptionist's desk had been manned by two receptionists – out of a team of five. These two people never had been on duty at the same time, but one of them had been there during three cases, and the other one during the other four cases. They had been teamed with different people – but there was no pattern in that, so Camille and Richard suspected that the others were innocent while these two had hatched a plan together and collaborated with the suspects.

They made copies of the CDs that could serve as evidence, photocopied the rota and returned to the station where Fidel and Dwayne were given everything to have a closer look and make background checks for all receptionists, particularly the two suspects. Hopefully, something would come out of the investigations.

One thing was sure – they wouldn't get a chance to be idle any time soon. There were the occasional lulls every once in a while, but basically, there always was something going on here on Saint Marie…

* * *

The evening came, and the team met up at La Kaz to discuss Joey's farewell party. Juliet had come, too, and brought along Rosie – which meant that the Bests wouldn't stay very long because they'd want to take their little one to sleep at her regular bedtime. Juliet wasn't into being too lax about that sort of thing – she felt that while children needed love and understanding, they also needed rules, routines and firm patterns for orientation.

So, they all gathered around a table and began to brainstorm. Richard didn't say anything, but Juliet noticed that he was in a thoughtful mood and asked him "And you, sir? What do you think? Don't you think Joey would enjoy all this?"

Richard gave her one of his rare smiles and said "I'm sure she will. Not because of all the garlands, lights, streamers and what-not, but because she'll feel – er – appreciated by her friends here. That is what counts, isn't it?"

Camille's gaze got soft and tender as she looked at him – he had learnt after all that it was important to let other people in. The way she looked at him didn't go unnoticed, but nobody commented on it. They all figured that if there was anything between Camille and the Chief, they'd find out about it eventually.

Catherine had joined their circle just a few minutes before Richard had made his statement, and she noticed the glance that Camille passed him, too. She raised her eyebrows, but didn't comment – this wasn't the time or the arena for making a private remark. She'd say something later on…

She agreed to close the patio for the public on Friday evening and only have the main part of La Kaz open for regular guests, so they could have their little party for Joey.

Soon after everything had been discussed, the Bests left, and Dwayne excused himself, saying that he was expected to show up at the gym tonight where he had agreed to teach a self-defence class for young people. He turned to Camille and said "You should do something like that specifically for girls some time, Camille. They might trust you more than they'd trust me, and I'm pretty sure that it would be a hit. It's not that there's a lot of violence around here, but for all the girls who work in hotels and tourist service and what-not, it would really make a difference. They sometimes get subjected to rather nasty assaults, and it would give them a lot more self-confidence if they were aware of how to fend off rude sods. And you're quite good at teaching, I think!"

With that, he gave her, Richard and Catherine a little nod and zoomed off. Catherine said pensively "Well, that does sound like a good idea – just remember the bunch of idiots that was here a while ago and assaulted you and Joey… You never know, it could be a lifesaver for some of the girls some time…"

There was no response from Camille, but Richard cleared his throat and said "Er – yes, that's a brilliant idea. If the gym people don't find it fits into their schedule, we can ask the Commissioner some time what he thinks about an official course… And talking about schedules, I think I'll be on my way now and go home…"

Camille offered promptly "I could give you a ride, sir, if you…"

Before she could finish her sentence, Catherine interrupted her with an exasperated sigh, looking from her daughter to Richard and back again, saying "Honestly, do you think I'm dumb? For how long were you going to play this charade?"

They both stared at her for a moment, taken aback, and Catherine continued "As if I didn't know the two of you had finally got your act together…"

She raised her eyebrows and made a dismissive gesture "Go… go and have fun playing together! But I tell you what, Richard, if you hurt her, I'll make you pay… and the same goes for you, Camille… if you do him wrong, you'll suffer. Now, out with you!"

Richard wanted to drop off the earth or become invisible – preferably both at the same time… - while Camille beamed at her mother, kissed her impulsively and whispered "Thank you, Maman!"

With that, she took Richard's hand and pulled him out of the bar.

* * *

Later, as they lay together on Richard's bed, Camille laughed softly in the semi-darkness and said "Now, that was a nice playdate, Richard – can we do that again some time?"

Richard propped up on his elbow and gave her a lopsided smile, then he said "I'll see what I can arrange – ouch… peace, Camille, peace!" Camille had punched him in jest, and he grabbed her wrist and pinned it down over her head. As he bent down to kiss her, he let go, and her arm came around his neck. A little later, she whispered "Pretty please, Richard!"

He smiled, proud and elated that she obviously couldn't get enough of him. This was an entirely new experience for him, and he still couldn't quite believe that it was all true. She snuggled up to him and mused "Mind you, I was a bit surprised about my mother's reaction tonight… but she seems to mean it, what do you think?"

Richard took a moment to reflect and then said "Well, she is pragmatic, isn't she? I told you so before, I think. I guess she had an idea that something was going on, and then… I mean, we have tried not to be too obvious, but she's your mother, and she knows you…"

Camille nodded and said "That's right… Whatever, I'm certainly not complaining."

He laughed softly and confirmed "Me neither. Makes it easier for us, doesn't it…"

With that, he put his arms around her again, and their verbal conversation was interrupted for a while.

* * *

Friday evening came, and the team, plus Juliet, gathered at La Kaz. Catherine had closed the patio for the public, as she had promised, and she and Camille (who had finished work _very_ punctually) had decorated the place with garlands, buntings and colourful streamers. The tables had been moved together, so they could all sit together for a little feast. There were some sweet and savoury snacks as well as fresh fruit; flowers and pretty napkins rounded up the picture.

At around 7.30, Dwayne checked his buzzing phone and said matter-of-factly "They are on their way. Andrew just texted me."

They all gathered on the patio and waited for Andrew and Joey to arrive. A sudden commotion at the entrance was the first sign, then they heard Joey's unmistakable voice as she said teasingly "Well, that's nice of you, Andrew – and you're sure you're inviting me? I mean, I could go totally wild tonight, and you'd end up with a bill as long as your arm… think about it twice!" They didn't understand Andrew's reply, but Joey laughed loudly and said "Well, fine then…"

Catherine went to greet them and pulled the surprised Joey away from the main bar area to the patio where she found herself surrounded by her friends all of a sudden, cheering at her. She was speechless for a moment when she took in the decorated patio, the lights, the festive-looking long table – and her friends' excited faces as she read the big banner "Safe travels & come back soon, Joey". Dwayne and Fidel had made this banner, with the help of little Rosie whose handprints (in blue and purple) could be seen everywhere.

Excitedly, Camille watched her friend's face. She was prepared for literally everything – but not for the tears that came now. They were streaming down Joey's face while she was pressing a hand over her mouth. Catherine reacted instinctively, took Joey in her arms and rocked her back and forth a little, quietly making cooing and soothing noises. That helped, and eventually Joey looked up again, smiled widely and said – with a slightly trembling voice – "As you… as you can tell, I'm totally overwhelmed. I didn't expect anything… like this. I thought we might gather for a drink, and that would be it, but this… this is amazing… Thank you so much, everyone!"

* * *

As Andrew took her home again in the wee hours of the morning, Joey sat there in silence, sighing happily and reflecting on the evening. She hadn't expected anything like this to happen. When they had set off to La Kaz, she had been almost subdued because she had known it would be her last evening here, and she had been afraid she'd get overly emotional. Which had happened – but in a different way than she had anticipated…

Andrew sensed that she didn't want to talk and remained silent - so she could replay some of the key scenes of the party in her head…

Of course, there was the moment when she realised they were not just having a general farewell drink, but a real, actual party, with decorations, snacks, drinks and even a cake (Catherine had excelled herself with an amazing Black Forest cake that contained a fabulous mix of cream, chocolate and kirsch – not too strong, but clearly stronger than any of the cakes Joey had ever tried before!)…

Then, Dwayne had taken out 'Louise', and Juliet and Fidel had sung for her – a recast version of 'Leaving on a jet plane', the old John Denver song, that included allusions now to their previous get-togethers – and everyone, even Richard, had chimed in for the chorus – 'cause you're leaving on a jet plane… we don't know when you'll be back again… oh babe, we hate to see you go!'

Dwayne had rolled his eyes when Andrew had clearly sung off-key, and Joey had giggled so hard that she'd nearly choked on her drink when she had seen the look on Dwayne's face.

Then Catherine had put on some music, and they had danced, there had been some party games, and everybody had laughed, chatted and had fun. And when it had been time to say good-bye, they had all hugged her tightly – well, Richard's hug had been a bit stiff, but he had done his best - and promised they'd see her at the ferry harbour in the morning. She had even let Dwayne come near her – and there hadn't been anything frightening about his embrace.

As they arrived at Andrew's house, Joey turned to him and put a hand on his arm. He looked at her and grinned "Happy, old soul?" he asked. She nodded and said softly "Thank you, cuz! For everything. I promise, I'll never forget what you've done for me… and I'll be back to visit as soon as possible."

Andrew raised his eyebrows and said teasingly "Oh dear, so my singing hasn't put you off then…"

She punched him, and they got off together, laughing.

* * *

The next morning found Joey at the harbour, next to her suitcase. Andrew was checking her ticket once again. And they all were there, as they had promised: Juliet and Fidel had brought along Rosie, Catherine was there, too – wearing large shades and claiming she just didn't look her best at that time in the morning, so the shades were necessary for her to hide her tired eyes, Richard skulked along the pier, clearly feeling awkward, and Camille was trying to hide her emotions behind flippant remarks. Just when they had thought he wouldn't come in time, Dwayne arrived, took off his helmet and strode towards the little group – of course, he had arrived at the very last minute!

While the other passengers boarded the little ferry, Joey looked at the little group of friends that had gathered around her. She said haltingly "You know what, I'll miss you. Thank you so much for everything…"

Then she hugged one after the other… When she finally turned to Camille, tears were in her eyes, and she whispered "I'll be back, Camille, and you'll get to meet Timmy then. In the meantime, be happy – and enjoy life!"

Camille nodded, slipped a little box into Joey's hand and said "I will…"

With that, she hugged her one last time.

Joey boarded the ferry, and as she stood by the railing, she opened the little box that Camille had given her. It contained the silver bracelet that Joey had admired a few days ago – and as she put it on, she smiled widely at her friend who waved at her and shouted "It'll bring you good luck, I hope…"

As the ferry had moved out of the harbour and got smaller and smaller, Camille turned around to Richard, giving him a tearful, pleading look. He reacted immediately – much to Dwayne's, Fidel's and Juliet's surprise and delight, he dropped his starchiness, pulled Camille towards him and let her cry on his shoulder.

"Oh Richard, what am I going to do without her?" she sobbed. Richard was very aware of how everybody looked at him and Camille, but for once, he hardly cared. Awkwardly, he stroked her hair and said softly so only she could hear him "You'll carry on and meet new friends. And besides that, you're not alone, anyway – _you have me now…_ I hope you won't forget this."

Camille hiccuped and lifted her head, looking straight into his eyes, and under the appreciative glances of her mother and her friends, she whispered "No. No, I certainly won't forget", and with a radiant smile, she kissed him on the cheek.

Then she turned to the others who had watched the scene, exchanging knowing glances, and said aloud "Come on, everybody, let's have breakfast together. I'm starving!"

And the whole lot of them made their way to La Kaz where they demolished a huge breakfast together. As she watched everyone around her eating, Camille felt Richard taking her hand, squeezing it lightly. She looked at him, and she felt her heart skipping a beat as she realised the love and tenderness, but also the silent concern in his gaze.

She gave him a little smile, returned the squeeze of his hand and then got up to raise her glass, saying "I know this is only orange juice, but I need to say it now: Here's to friendship! I've been a pain in the behind over the past weeks, but you've all stood by me – so thank you!"

* * *

On the ferry to Guadeloupe, Joey looked back to where Saint Marie was slowly disappearing out of sight. Yes, she had healed on this island… the scars weren't so painful any more, and they'd disappear for good eventually… hopefully soon.

She squinted for a last time, then she turned around and resolutely went to the other side of the boat, looking into the direction of the bigger island…

It had been hard to leave them all behind, no matter how much she had known that it had been time to go… With a little smile, she looked at the bracelet that Camille had given her… yes, she'd surely go back some time. Soon, hopefully...

But now, she'd have to focus on the future – she couldn't wait to return to the UK and rebuild her life there…

Timmy was waiting for her.

All would be well.


End file.
